


Glimpse

by Tadpole4176



Series: Snapshot [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Erik, canon AU, kid Charles, kid Erik, protective Charles, scary Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadpole4176/pseuds/Tadpole4176
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles both knew all along that the battle with Shaw was coming. They'd gathered their army, of sorts, and trained them with the confrontation with him in mind. But neither of them could ever have guessed that when the time for battle finally came the two of them might be suffering from a minor, time distorting accident on the part of one of their cohort of students. One that's left both of them in the bodies of small children, and forces them to face Erik's worst nightmares in such a weakened state.</p><p>Of course, the first time Shaw had Erik in his clutches, he didn't have Charles at his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In these first couple of chapters (especially this one) we’re so tightly bound to the XMFC movie there are little bits of it directly still in here – it’s borrowed, I’m sure you’ll recognise which bits! It doesn’t go on like that for long, honestly :)  
> This story is a sequel to Snapshot, although aside from a few references and an extra mutant on the team, I don’t think it’ll make too much difference reading this as a stand alone story.

“Adapt to this,” said Shaw, grabbing Darwin’s jaw. As the mutants of both sides looked on, Shaw turned the energy he had just absorbed from Alex’s blast and condensed it into a nugget of power no larger than a couple of his fingers, posting it directly down Darwin’s throat.

Then, as abruptly as they arrived, Shaw and his companions were gone.

And Angel was gone.

As his friends looked on helplessly, Darwin’s body transformed itself into shiny, silver metal, desperately trying to protect him from Shaw’s energy. It morphed again into something that would have looked more at home at the base of an active volcano, before the young man reached out to his friends for a moment then disappeared in a brief explosion of fire.

And then he was gone too.

Shocked, Sean, Alex, Raven and Hank gazed out of the demolished window into the wreckage of the courtyard, littered with human bodies from the teleporter’s attack and the ash of their friend, Darwin, someone all of them had thought to be unstoppable.

Maybe he would have been, but for Shaw.

There was nothing remaining of Angel. No trace of her existence at all, aside from the used glass sat alongside the others on the coffee table. Nothing to show that she’d ever come to the CIA with Charles and Erik at all.

As the others began to console one another quietly, Colin stood apart. He paid no attention to the debris or to his horror at seeing Darwin disintegrating before him. Instead, he slowly waved his right hand in the air, carefully tracing out an anti-clockwise circle and concentrating, the furrow across his brow demonstrating his determination to make his powers work properly.

“Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us then by definition you are against us,” says Shaw, smugly.  “So, you can stay, fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me and live like kings.” He looks at Angel, somehow knowing. “And queens.”

Shaw reaches out his hand and Angel takes it.

Raven flinches, “Angel,” her voice begging the other girl to stay.

A moment behind, Darwin adds, “You kidding me?”

Angel turns back to look at them, apparently hoping to persuade some of the others to join Shaw too. “Come on, we don’t belong here, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Standing on the opposite side of the gulf, with no intention of joining in Darwin reaches out for a moment then lets his hand slide down to his side.

Raven tries again. “We have to do something.”

Then Angel walks out with Shaw through the broken window, the act of crossing the divide giving her departure an air of finality.

As Darwin turns to Alex, Colin steps in.

“No,” he whispers, knowing that as he touches them, they see what he sees, what just happened. How their plan will fail. “We can’t lose two of us tonight.”


	2. The Cell

Erik groaned, opening his eyes into a not quite black dimness and wondering why he felt so disorientated. A couple of slow blinks did little to relieve his first impressions, so he slowly raised himself into a sitting position, only then noting that he’d been sprawled out on the hard concrete floor. Before he even made it to his feet, his fingers had found something warm and breathing.

“Charles?” he whispered. After all, who else would it be, apparently sleeping on the floor with him? Unless all of the others were here too, of course, but as his eyes adjusted to the dimness he suspected that wasn’t going to turn out to be the case.

The body at his side shifted a bit and sighed, still tinier than he could really wrap his brain round. Assuming they hadn’t partially grown up while they’d been unconscious – which wasn’t looking likely – Charles was still around three, complete with slightly chubby fingers, a mass of completely untameable wavy, brown hair, and of course huge blue eyes. Erik knew all about the eyes, even if they weren’t open yet.

“Charles!” repeated Erik, prodding his friend in the shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Ugh,” said Charles, nonetheless responding to Erik’s poking. “Erik?”

“Yeah,” admitted Erik, turning Charles’ chin to face him, “right here.”

“Ah, good,” smiled Charles, his voice sounding even more distorted by his size than the last time this had happened, way back when they’d first met Colin.

“I think we might be in trouble,” admitted Erik.

“Less good,” said Charles, sitting up straighter now and gazing directly at his friend. “Although, I might admit, what else is new?”

“True,” conceded Erik, inclining his head as he thought back to the last thing he could remember. “I do remember Shaw and Azazel appearing on the Blackbird.”

“Yes, quite, definitely trouble. Can’t say I can put my finger on anything much after that though,” added Charles, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. “No, I’m usually good at recall but there’s simply nothing there.”

“Shaw then,” sighed Erik, trying to downplay the huge wave of fear that swept through his entire, inadequate, seven year old, body.

Charles shuffled over, taking Erik’s not very big hand in his two tiny, chubby ones. “We’ll stick together, my friend,” he almost whispered, some of his ‘l’s sounding strange as his too new mouth tried to get itself round them.

“Of course, Charles.” As if he would refuse. Erik put his arm round Charles, drawing him to his side properly as they faced up to their situation.

For a few moments they sat in silence, the four blank walls staring back at them, along with an unreachably high, tiny window. And a door that seemed to be held closed by something other than a lock. Of course, avoiding metal just pointed to Shaw again, he knew all about Erik’s powers. It was alarming enough to be in this situation with Shaw and small, but to have Charles here as well. Erik shuddered, his mind showing him images of his last spell with Shaw that he would rather not have seen.

Charles broke the silence. Leaping to his feet, he pulled at Erik, trying to bring him up too. “This can be solved, Erik. We can defeat Shaw.”

Erik looked down at his friend, running his hand through his almost-blond hair as he tried to think of a nice way to burst Charles’ bubble. Although, really, experience should probably have taught him that Charles’ bubbles were far more resilient than the average man’s. Or toddler’s.

“I couldn’t…” began Erik, stopping as he realised Charles had waggled a tiny finger at him.

“No, Erik, this is not the same as before. We’re small, but we’re not children. It’s different.”

Erik frowned, projecting an image of Charles to him, in an attempt to explain his worries.

Charles simply smiled, infuriatingly. “They’ll underestimate us,” he said, “they won’t be able to help it. Even you’re doing it, and you know how you feel.”

“Charles, you’re going to need an afternoon nap!”

The smaller boy shrugged, “Not necessarily. And until I do, I can do everything I could do before.”

Erik raised his eyebrow, determined to make his smaller face explain the problem just as well as the bigger one might.

“Yes, yes, not quite everything,” admitted Charles, “but I’m me, my brain’s working even if my mouth isn’t quite – you know that’s really very annoying, talking feels like such an effort – and I’ve still got my powers.”

Erik took in a breath, but didn’t quite get a word in.

“I suspect, my friend, that they think we haven’t manifested,” declared Charles, triumphantly. “And, you know, they might just think that our minds have regressed too.”

“They didn’t use a metal lock,” pointed out Erik.

“Well that would just be asking for trouble,” grinned Charles. “Had you manifested at seven though? The first time round, I mean.”

“No,” Erik shook his head. “You?”

“Well, yes, but I know for a fact that most telepaths don’t manifest until much later, I was just an anomaly. I feel quite certain that Miss Frost would guess that I’d manifest at a later time – should Shaw ask her.”

“Frost’s captured,” pointed out Erik. “Just at the minute I don’t think she’s telling Shaw anything.”

“Well, no, but this smells like a plan they had together. Shaw’s appearance on the Blackbird had the feel of something calculated, particularly the way we were removed. Just us – I think.” Charles tapped at his head again, indicating that he didn’t detect any of the others anywhere in the vicinity.

“So… they’ve underestimated us, we use that to our advantage?”

“Definitely,” nodded Charles, vigorously. He reached out for Erik’s hand. “I would say that with Miss Frost out of the way, there shouldn’t be anyone to pick up on Shaw being wrong either. We just have to make them believe we’re harmless.”

“And children?”

“Definitely more harmless,” smiled Charles.

Behind them, the door finally began to open, bringing with it an unexpected shaft of bright light that left them both blinking. As they turned to face their visitor, Charles shuffled over to tuck himself under Erik’s arm.

<We can do this, Erik.>


	3. Earlier in Westchester

It didn’t seem as though it had been mere days since they had been forced to flee from the CIA base and Shaw and his associates. Charles’ mansion had taken hold of their little group’s imagination in a way that the CIA base never had, quickly acquiring strange little personal touches – a few photographs, some souvenirs of their adventures, even the odd stuffed animal. Somehow, despite the lingering musty smell of the house, with such an influx of people even the most abandoned of homes could be brought back to life, and now it seemed to welcome them. Although, judging by Charles’ unprecedented lack of enthusiasm, it was possible that home perhaps wasn’t the word for this place, Erik wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, it looked positively homely now. As Charles puzzled over his next move, his fingers wiggling in the vicinity of a rook then backing off again, Erik gazed around the room at their team of amazing children, thankfully only Angel missing from their midst. They’d been lucky.

In one corner of the room Alex and Darwin seemed to be involved in some sort of play by play of the attack, with Colin throwing in the occasional vehement comment, most likely pointing out the error of their ways – after all, he’d seen at least part of it twice. Then away from them, Sean, Raven and Hank were taking a more relaxed approach, having coaxed the elderly television into operation and found themselves a few light snacks and something to take their minds off what had happened altogether. It was nice – comfortable.

And Erik could understand either approach, it was interesting to see them split like that in fact.

Of course, he could argue that he and Charles belonged to either side, since their game of chess seemed to be alternately tactical withdrawal, strategic planning, and distraction.

“Are you quite all right, my friend?” enquired Charles, his brows furrowed as he gazed in earnest at a distracted Erik.

“Thinking,” responded Erik, more abruptly than he’d intended.

“This?” Charles gestured at the board, “or that?” He moved his hands more widely out into the room, encompassing their companions.

“Mostly that,” admitted Erik, a brief guilty smirk flashing across his mouth. “You really think we can train them successfully?”

“You were the one who wanted them to stay, Erik,” pointed out Charles, gently.

“They had a right!” Erik caught several glances turning to him and lowered his voice. “It’s possible that my understanding for the need for revenge might occasionally outweigh my common sense. I do now remember thinking that they weren’t ready,” he confided, surprising himself in what he was willing to admit to Charles. He couldn’t remember the last time he had made such a confession.

Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise, obviously aware of what a big deal Erik’s words were. “You have been thinking about this. Between us we can accomplish this goal, Erik. I only need you by my side,” Charles smiled. “They really are amazing young people, just in need of a little training.”

Erik grinned more widely, the opportunity to effect a little discipline crossing his mind, then his expression faded as he caught sight of Colin, Snapshot as the others had dubbed him, again. “What about Colin? How are we going to train him without risking another incident?”

Charles chuckled. “An incident? You have a way with words, my friend. I’m quite certain we should try to train him, aren’t you? We certainly don’t want anything like that to go wrong while we’re facing Shaw,” he shrugged. “I suppose while we’re here we’ll just have to take our chances and keep our fingers crossed that he manages to avoid shrinking us into children again. We might want to make sure that he doesn’t use his powers when a lot of us are together.”

Erik’s eyes widened, imagining all of them shrunk into miniature versions of themselves.

“I believe we have a good selection of – possibly slightly dusty – children’s clothing here at least,” put in Charles.

Oh God. Erik could see that was definitely something he was going to have to keep an eye on, his brain already calculating precisely how it would be possible to keep an eye on Colin’s progress without, perhaps, being in range of any mishaps.

“Charles,” he finally managed to get out. “I think perhaps we should hold off on practicing with Snapshot until we’ve got a few of the others in control, just in case of mishaps.”

Charles frowned at him in concern for a few moments, an expression not dissimilar to the one he wore when working out a several stage chess problem, then eventually nodded. “Right you are, Erik. We can hold off on accidentally shrinking ourselves until we’ve got a bit more of a team built, you’re thinking?”

Erik was quite certain that wasn’t what he was thinking, but maybe close enough for the moment. “Something along those lines, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him, then turned his attention back to their game.

                                                                                *****

The subject of Colin remained on the back burner for approximately 9 days.

Then, finally, Charles accosted Erik about it, during their regular nightly game of chess.

“Erik,” Charles began, his tentative approach already putting Erik on edge. Charles would never be so cautious if what he was about to say was something Erik would like.

“Yes, Charles?” Erik raised his eyebrows, telegraphing his scepticism even if Charles wasn’t listening in, and turned his full attention to his friend.

“I think the time has come to start working with Colin.”

Ah, that old chestnut. Erik sighed, well aware that he couldn’t put this off forever.

“Attack could come from Shaw at any moment,” continued Charles, “it’s unfair to leave only one of the children with no solid grounding in how to handle himself.”

“I’ve been teaching him self-defence with the others,” put in Erik, conscious that he was sidestepping the true issue.

Then it was Charles’ turn to sigh. “You know what I mean, Erik. We must help him control his powers.”

Erik closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that anger would not help him here. What did Charles call it, serenity? He wondered if serenity applied to dealing with college professors with no sense of self-preservation. “You need a plan, if you’re planning on working with his powers,” he told his friend, bluntly, bypassing any suggestion that anyone other than Charles might do the work. As much as Erik might prefer that, it was clear that was never going to happen. “You need to be careful.”

“I am careful,” protested Charles.

“When you stood in Alex’s line of fire?”

“There was no risk, he’d got it under control before I did that! And what about you pointing a gun at your head? I hardly think you’re the measure of caution, my friend.”

Touché, thought Erik, wondering again if Charles was listening in. “I….” Erik paused, veering away from the easy argument, “what about Cerebro?”

“What about it?”

“Plugging yourself into an unknown device because you wanted to know what would happen? I think Colin is your next experiment – you know it could go wrong, but you need to know why and how more than you need to take care of yourself. That’s not good sense, Charles. We all need you in one piece.”

Charles glared at him for a moment, apparently simply for not letting him have his own way, then his sunny attitude reappeared and he simply said. “What do you suggest?”

                                                                                *********

Stepping out into the grounds to a gloriously sunny day, Charles strode over to his two waiting students, clapping each of them on the back with a calculated reassurance, then taking a moment to acknowledge Erik’s distant, but still obviously glowering presence. Erik, he noted, didn’t wave back.

Alex and Colin, however, were appreciative of his efforts, if still rather nervous, something which Charles was trying to resist nudging out of them for the moment, after all, it wouldn’t do for them to become too reliant on his mental assistance in battle. Instead, Charles gestured to a row of dummies, identical to the ones Alex had been targeting in the bunker.

“Alex, today we’re going to work on our target practice outside.”

Alex glared at him, well enough that Charles wondered if Erik had been giving him lessons, although he didn’t object.

“It’s important that you feel able to shoot at targets with confidence, without constantly second guessing yourself and worrying about hitting your friends. You must be sure that you can do this, before you can go into battle. You have to believe,” added Charles, tapping Alex’s forehead in a way reminiscent of the way he often focused his telepathy.

“Right, Professor,” acknowledged Alex. “You’re sure that no one’s going to walk behind those or anything though, aren’t you? And you and Bozo aren’t planning on standing with them?”

Charles laughed, “Not today, Alex. We’ve already tried that after all, and yes, I’m quite certain that no one else plans to head this way.” This time he tapped his own forehead. “We do have a little extra for you today though, which is where Colin comes in.”

Alex glanced at Colin, who if anything seemed even more nervous than he did.

“Colin?” asked Charles, gently. “You know that you need to practice at some point?”

Colin nodded, reluctantly, but his hands stayed resolutely in his pockets and his eyes didn’t entirely meet Charles’s.

“Colin? You don’t have to do this, but there’s no way you can join us in battle if you don’t practice using your skills.” Charles reached out to lift Colin’s chin, tipping his head enough to see his eyes.

“I know,” admitted Colin. “I’m just worried about what happened before.”

“Well that’s only natural,” smiled Charles cheerfully, not in fact faking at all, although he could tell that Colin believed he was. “But that’s just part of the adventure. We need to know what’s going to happen, even if it might turn out to be inconvenient for a day or two.”

Alex took a moment to look askance at Charles. “You think he might shrink us? You know I’m younger than you, right?”

Charles beamed at him. “I was aware, Alex. I’m sure it’s very unlikely that Colin will shrink us, but should an accident occur, I’m confident of our friends’ abilities to take care of us.”

Alex shook his head, muttering under his breath to himself.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Alex,” offered Charles. “We would think no worse of you.”

“It’s fine,” sighed Alex. “Just if I end up in diapers, remember this was your idea, and that I’m a teenager, not a baby.”

“Of course!”

“You’re sure?” actually, Alex’s statement seemed to have reassured Colin, something that Charles thought he might need to bring to his work with Hank, given his problems with Alex.

“I’m good,” said Alex firmly. “Zap away, Professor?”

“Absolutely. In your own time, Alex.”

The teenager tensed his muscles, then released a huge blast of energy from the panel at his chest, successfully annihilating only one of the dummies with a proud smirk and earning an audible gasp from Colin.

“Thank you very much.” Alex took a quick bow as Charles reached to pat him on the back again.

“Nicely done, Alex. Now, Colin, take us back to before Alex targeted the mannequin and tell him to stop.”

Nervously, Colin took his right hand from his pocket and traced an invisible circle anticlockwise in the air.

“I’m good,” says Alex firmly. “Zap away, Professor?”

“Absolutely. In your own time, Alex.”

“No, stop,” gasps Colin, taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief as Charles and Alex turn to look at him, Alex’s face betraying his surprise and a little annoyance after his own show of faith.

Colin simply smiles, reaching out to touch each of them so that they can share the moment.

“Nice one, Snapshot,” acknowledges Alex, “now we don’t need to buy nearly as many of those dumb mannequins.”

Charles claps each of them on the back once more then wanders over to Erik.

                                                                                ******

“Charles?” Erik greeted him, his glowering expression marginally improved from the one Charles had detected earlier. “Did you think better of your experiment?”

Charles smiled, simply raising an eyebrow and waiting a moment for Erik to realise what he was asking.

“Oh, I see. You’re looking smug because you were successful, and therefore unlikely to become a screaming infant in the morning.” Erik’s frown re-emerged somewhat.

“As I told Colin, we must take chances if we are to defeat Shaw, my friend,” shrugged Charles. “And I feel certain you and Raven would have taken care of me if the worst had happened.”

Erik didn’t respond again for several minutes, but Charles was quite certain that if his frown was to grow any deeper it would very likely emerge out of the back of the man’s head.


	4. The Time Travel Question

 

The chess set was worn with time and certainly nowhere near as valuable as the many paintings and antiques scattered about the old mansion, but nonetheless it was one of Charles’s favourite possessions. He had, of course, always been fond of it, and of playing chess, but the introduction of a regular opponent in his friend Erik had elevated it beyond its recent status. These days, if the house burnt down Charles wouldn’t save photographs of the family that had never truly cared for him, or priceless valuables, he would rescue his treasured chess set.

Of course, the fact that he was even thinking about the house burning to the ground probably said something about his state of mind and the company he was keeping too.

Charles had just finished lovingly setting up the pieces, when Erik sauntered in, looking decidedly pleased with himself and practically daring Charles to ask about it.

Charles, naturally, saw no reason to resist asking. “What have you done, Erik? Have you been traumatising the students with hand to hand combat lessons again?”

“Charles, it’s really only you that’s traumatised by hand to hand combat,” smirked Erik, “but no, although I may have finally persuaded your sister to stop hiding herself.”

“Raven needs to hide to prevent…”

“… hush Charles, I’m not advocating her getting herself beaten up when she’s alone and outnumbered, I’m talking about her going into battle the fierce, proud warrior she could be.”

“.. but…” Charles stopped, knowing that Erik was genuinely trying to help Raven, and in a manner that Raven herself appreciated. “What did you do?”

“I dropped a few weights on her,” grinned Erik, apparently certain that Charles would understand and enjoy the joke too.

“Erik! Is she OK?” Charles began to rise out of his seat, until Erik gently put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“What do you take me for, Charles? She’s fine. I was merely demonstrating that she might need to use her concentration for something other than looking like a typical human.”

“She…” began Charles again, before conceding Erik’s intent gracefully, possibly aided by his friend’s projection of reassurance, done as effectively as any non-telepath Charles had ever met. “She’s fine,” he repeated to himself.

“She’s magnificent, Charles, you need to stop seeing the little sister you adopted,” pointed out Erik, while the opportunity stood. “She’s one of our students, we need to help her too.”

“Granted,” admitted Charles, resolving to save his panic for later in private. After all, he wanted to look after his sister too, in a way that didn’t entirely apply to their other students. “Actually,” he added, forcibly moving the conversation on, “I’ve had a thought about Colin.”

Erik sat down, the smug look fading from his face. “A thought? I thought the practicing had been going well, that he’d managed several minutes back without incident?”

“Well, yes,” said Charles, “but as with Sean potentially flying, I’ve been wondering if we’re properly looking at the limits of his abilities, and then I realised that we’ve only ever looked at him moving time backwards.”

“Time travel into the future is impossible, Charles,” put in Erik, none too gently.

“Perhaps,” Charles admitted, ignoring Erik’s harsh tone as he felt the underlying worry that had produced it. “I know we don’t want to risk things going wrong with Colin again, but it feels remiss of us not to try. Imagine what he might be able to do – predict problems that we could avoid, far ahead of the sort of thing that he could realistically wind back for us.”

“Even if he could, what about the risks? Have you even considered the wider implications of you and Colin getting caught in some sort of future rift? What if you end up an old man? Unable to help us at all?”

“You will be fine, my friend,” smiled Charles. “It’s not as if my powers are exactly physical in nature, if I’m old I’ll probably be better controlled at this.” His fingers reached up to his temple.

Wordlessly, Erik nonetheless managed to convey every ounce of his reluctance to go along with this scheme, apparently also well aware of how resolved Charles was to try it after his failed attempts to dissuade Charles on other occasions. Charles could feel Erik’s memories of the first Cerebro tests pressing against him, almost inviting him to relive Erik’s experience, to taste some of Erik’s own horror, yet the older man said nothing, merely moved his first pawn and began their nightly chess game.

                                                                                ***********

It took several days, but inevitably – to Erik’s thinking – Charles finally persuaded Colin to attempt to move time forwards, and the three of them found themselves hidden away in a rarely used and rather overgrown area of the mansion’s grounds, an area which Charles assured them had been regularly refused planning permission for any kind of construction because of poor drainage. All a bit unnecessary in Charles’ opinion, but Erik was certain that preparation, even for the most unlikely of events, was always the key to success. Granted, going backwards Colin had only ever travelled a few minutes, and granted Erik didn’t really believe that forward travel was likely, but one thing he’d really like to avoid was travelling forwards in time only to discover that he’d died because he’d been embedded in a wall that didn’t yet exist.

Preparation wasn’t, however, enough to make Erik remotely confident in this experiment. Sometime in the last few days Charles’ belief that Colin could wind time forwards had apparently latched on to Erik and now he found himself without the derogatory confidence in total failure that he’d held several days previously, rather he was terrified of actual success.

Or perhaps partial success, after all, real success would probably be fine.

Mirroring Charles’ position, Erik reached out to touch Colin’s shoulder, bracing himself as the young man reached out his right hand and slowly traced a circle in a clockwise direction.

All too quickly, Erik wished he’d thought to do this whilst seated – and further away from boggy puddles - as his senses were assaulted by image after image of the future.

The red devil man stood alone on a cargo ship.

Charles lying on a beach in Erik’s arms, crying.

Shaw hanging in the air by his arms.

A blue creature strangling Erik.

Missiles targeting them.

Sean flying over the sea.

Angel spitting at them.

Raven in blue, standing at the entrance to a plane.

A flying submarine.

A coin in mid-air.

Erik sat heavily on the ground, not caring that his clothes quickly soaked up the moisture from the floor, his mind too occupied in sifting through the images he saw, in lingering on the image of Charles on the ground. What was Colin showing them?

“Charles?” he gasped, turning to try to locate his friend in the here and now. “Are you OK?”

“Erik,” his friend responded, bent nearly double with his hands braced against his knees barely two feet from Erik, no longer maintaining any contact with Colin. “It’s fine, I’m fine, just give me a minute.”

Colin turned to them, his features bent into a broad grin, though he too was breathing heavily. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“It most certainly did,” agreed Charles, straightening up as best he could. “Although for future reference I might wait for the summary rather than coming along for the ride.”

Colin held out his hand to haul Erik up, peering worriedly at him.

“I’m fine,” grunted Erik, embarrassed that he’d apparently been so much more affected by the visions than the other two men.

“Nothing to worry about, Erik,” said Charles brightly, “I’m afraid Moira’s calling us in now though, we’ve got to get moving, she says the President’s about to make his address.”

                                                                                *********

It didn’t take long to reach the mansion, despite their secluded location. Charles, Erik and Colin quickly joined the others in the lounge where they were glued to the television set. Charles sank into the chair, leaning forward to catch what the President was saying, while Erik and Colin hung further back, still listening intently, not a single word exchanged about what they’d just been doing.

Finally, the President finished his speech, and Erik broke the silence. “That’s where we’re going to find Shaw.”

“How do you know?” asked Alex.

It was Charles who answered, “Two super powers facing off and he wants to start World War 3. He won’t leave anything to chance.”

“So much for diplomacy, I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep,” added Erik, more than aware of their immediate future, catching Charles’ eyes as he did so and raising an eyebrow.

<You can take us all there so calmly, after what we saw?> asked Charles silently.

Erik shook his head. <This is war, Charles. What we saw doesn’t matter, we must stop Shaw.>


	5. That Beach

It was never going to be a morning unlike any other. From the instant he opened his eyes, Erik could feel the mixture of fear and anticipation building up in his chest. Today was the day he would finally be rid of Shaw, he’d seen it in Snapshot’s vision, that lifeless figure of his nemesis.

But today was also the day he’d seen Charles lying on that beach, badly hurt.

Not everything could be allowed to go the same way.

For a moment Erik regretted joining up with the others. It had certainly been simpler on his own. Had Charles been some nameless ally he wouldn’t have thought twice about letting him become collateral damage in order to finally be rid of Shaw. But Charles wasn’t simply a nameless ally, he was much more than that, and even if he wasn’t able to say it out loud, Erik could admit to himself that perhaps Charles surviving this in one piece was more important than Shaw dying today.

Shaw could always die later if he needed to.

Shaking himself free of his thoughts, Erik jumped from the bed accompanied by a very unsatisfying thud as his feet hit the ground.

<Charles!> he yelled, not bothering to wait until he’d had time to run to his friend’s room.

                                                                                *******

Charles blinked blearily at the clock, unable to believe it was truly time to get up. Of course, after the announcement last night he hadn’t been at all sure he’d be able to sleep at all, but gradually everyone in the house had succumbed and with them Charles himself had finally dropped off. Now he could feel them all rousing alongside him, the hum of anxious minds quietly preparing themselves.

That was when Erik yelled at him.

<Erik?> he thought back, surprised. If he’d expected anyone to have a calming – or perhaps focussing - influence today, it was Erik. <What’s wrong?>

His door opened, unlocking itself without Erik even attempting to knock – although Charles supposed he should be grateful that Erik had spoken to him first at least.

“Charles.”

Erik stepped through the door, holding his hands out as if that would help Charles see him more clearly, not needing to say a word.

Four feet tall, or thereabouts. Shorter than last time, Charles suspected.

Charles looked down, even as he saw Erik taking a long look himself.

Today? “Bugger.”

His hands were definitely smaller than before, presumably proportionally to Erik’s own additional height loss, and similarly, now that he was looking outwards instead of inwards he could see that everything looked different. Really different. Slowly, Charles slid off his bed, his pyjama top enveloping his entire body as his trousers simply slid off him. He sidled over to a mirror, thankfully a full length one that allowed him to see himself. Then he regretted it.

“We can’t do this today!” exclaimed Charles in horror, the quiet joy he’d found the previous time entirely deserting him as his voice came out with something of an odd lisp. “We’re facing Shaw and I look about three!”

“You know that Colin won’t be able to fix it,” pointed out Erik, resisting saying I told you so in the face of Charles’ imminent panic, although Charles could still feel it at the front of Erik’s thoughts, clamouring to get out.

Charles sighed, the deep breath blowing out some of his panic with it. “I suppose I did say my physical fitness was unimportant.”

Erik straightened, “Yes,” he reached out with his hand, carefully raising and lowering a metal pen and Charles’ watch. “Our powers are still fine.”

Charles nodded, well aware that inside his head had felt exactly as he’d expected. “Smaller target,” said Charles, more to himself than Erik. “We’d better warn Moira and Raven though,” he added.

“Of course,” replied Erik, broadcasting his reluctance loudly to Charles, but not making any verbal objection – they both knew there was really no option. “Let’s go and find them,” he reached out his hand to Charles, shifting his own oversized sweater out of the way as he added, “and some of those child sized clothes you mentioned.”

                                                                                **********

Mercifully, Charles and Erik managed to navigate the hallways to find Moira and Raven without running into any of the boys. Erik wasn’t sure precisely how, although a couple of times he thought he caught Charles tweaking either their direction or someone else’s, so he suspected Charles might have had something to do with it. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t even worth the effort, it wasn’t as though they were going to be able to avoid them forever – not today.

That was before he’d actually spoken to Moira and Raven, who seemed quite certain that he and Charles would have to remain behind.

Raven had gasped when she’d seen them, and immediately grabbed Charles and swung him into her arms, despite the fact that he’d clearly been in a much less cuddly mood than the last time this had happened, and that it was entirely inappropriate. Not that Erik had resisted holding his hand or anything.

Mini Charles really was very cute.

And given the way Moira was looking at Erik himself again, it was probably a good job he wasn’t the telepath.

“Moira,” Charles spoke up again from Raven’s arms, apparently having surrendered to her need for reassurance – if that was what it was, “you can’t leave us behind at this point, we’re going to need all the firepower we’ve got.”

“I don’t take children into battle, Charles.”

“As you have just so eloquently pointed out, we’re all well aware that neither Charles nor I is a child,” put in Erik, seething at the human’s attempt to order him around. “We are grown men, and still in full control of our faculties, we are simply occupying smaller bodies for the time being.”

“You’re just little kids,” said Raven, squeezing Charles tight enough that Erik thought he might struggle to breathe.

“Only on the outside,” said Charles gently. “We’re still ourselves.”

Raven gave him a look. “You said yourself last time that you weren’t entirely yourselves. You slept in Erik’s bed with him for heaven’s sake!”

Charles shrugged. “I didn’t like the dark.”

Erik glared at him, <You’re not helping!> Then turned back to Moira, quite certain he knew who was in charge here. “Moira, you are quite welcome to express your opinion, it is noted, but I am not sending a bunch of children out alone to prevent a nuclear war and stop a madman because I happen to be feeling a little short today.”

“You’re in no physical shape to do battle, and you know it,” replied Moira angrily, her eyes flashing at him.

“Then we’ll stay on the Blackbird,” said Charles, “it’s obvious I’m not going to be able to outrun anyone, I won’t try, but you need both of us there to help.”

“We..” began Moira again.

“You need us,” insisted Charles, looking at her straight in the eyes, oozing sincerity to the point where Erik wondered if he was actually giving her brain a little nudge.

“You…” started Moira, still not quite ready to surrender to the inevitable.

But Raven stopped her. “They’re right,” she interrupted. “We can’t do this without them, so they’re going to have to come. It’s that or accept that Shaw’s going to force a nuclear strike.”

Moira glared, shocked at the loss of her only ally.

Raven simply kissed Charles’ cheek, something she would never do to the grown up version. “It’s a risk we’re all prepared to take, you can’t stop us.”

“You’ll stay on the Blackbird,” Moira sternly looked Charles and then Erik right in the eye. “No running off.”

“Moira,” said Erik with exasperation, “I’m in my thirties, I don’t run off.”

Charles laughed. “Well, hardly ever.”

“Charles,” warned Erik.

“Raven,” said Charles hurriedly, “could you be a dear and give us a hand getting some suitable clothing out of the loft?”

“I will,” smiled Raven, swinging Charles onto one arm and using her other hand to usher Erik out of the room before he could say anything else. “Will you check on the others, Moira? We’ve got some people to save today!”

                                                                                ********

In hindsight, Charles was certain that something in his decision making process must have been flawed. Surely it was possible to avoid ending up trapped on a plane with a madman and his associates?

Step 1, he supposed, had gone quite well. The Aral Sea had been successfully destroyed after all and that had removed a lot of the excuses for people to start shooting at each other, so even in light of this latest wrinkle, he found he couldn’t regret that.

Step 2, where Erik hadn’t quite managed to lift the sub but had made a huge gaping hole in it could have been the source of an error or two, but then it was difficult to regret not leaving Shaw to blow them all up too.

So maybe it wasn’t the decisions that were flawed after all, Charles concluded, maybe today was just always going to be a rubbish day. He glanced around the Blackbird, still in flight as fuzzy, blue Hank tried to find somewhere to land quickly where they might be in a better position against their intruders. Charles could feel Hank’s thoughts racing, a new tint of anger registering alongside them where Charles hadn’t previously encountered it. He moved on, knowing that Hank was on a hopeless mission, not only was he unable to save them, but he was going to be forced to remain at the controls of the plane, no matter what happened. Even Hank’s new enhanced strength wasn’t going to help them.

Who else?

Sean and Alex were already outside, safe but not obviously of any help in this situation. Well, fairly safe, he suspected that they may be going a round or two with Angel and Riptide outside, but there was no room to worry about that right now. How were they going to get out of this?

Darwin was still there, of course, and Raven, both strong and ready to do battle, so similar in some ways, with their ability to mutate themselves. And Moira, with her training and human skills. Would they be enough? Colin seemed to be unconscious – apparently out of his seat when they’d been hit by one of Riptide’s vortexes, Raven had been checking on him when Shaw and Azazel had turned up. No serious damage though, Charles could sense his mind ticking over quietly, nothing wrong just a little removed from the world at the moment.

Only three of them, only two mutants, to face two mutants as powerful as Shaw and Azazel. Would they be enough? Could Charles and Erik tip the balance?

Charles glanced at Erik, sidling closer to him as he saw his friend recover from the initial shock of seeing Shaw and Azazel appear on the plane, and move on to an offensive.

An offensive it would be impossible to survive in the body of a seven year old.

<Erik, no! He’s not charged enough to do any damage, we’ve stopped him.> Charles couldn’t help himself; he reached out to his friend.

Shaw, his thoughts cloaked by his ridiculous helmet, apparently also caught the glint in Erik’s eye, and laughed – an unpleasant cackling sound that went right through Charles’ bones, reminding him of all the pain that Erik owed this man. Charles reached out to Erik again, desperate to stop him from sacrificing himself to this.

And in that moment, in the instant where Charles and Erik were close enough for a single, red tailed, demon like mutant to grab them both at once, Charles smelled the sulphur and felt the disorientation of a teleportation jump, and Charles knew at last where his bad decision of the day lay.


	6. Sebastian Shaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve probably guessed, but there’s likely to be a spot of violence against children here. They’re not really children, but it is still violence – be warned. There is some comfort to make up for it too!

“Children,” smirked Shaw, revealing himself fully in the doorway, firstly in silhouette as he stood in the illuminated doorway, and then in full, unpleasant technicolour as he sauntered into the cell full of arrogant glee. Even with his helmet on, Charles imagined he could feel the man’s emotions buffeting against him.

A battle that had apparently gone entirely to plan.

Charles frowned, realising that in fact he’d thought Shaw’s plan had been to blow up half the world, which clearly hadn’t succeeded.

Perhaps that hadn’t quite been the plan after all.

Wishing Shaw might take his helmet off so that Charles could take a good look at the man’s real plans, rather than what he’d allowed his minions to learn, Charles pressed himself closer to Erik. Scared child, he reminded himself. We want Shaw to be confident enough to take off his helmet.

“Who are you?” asked Charles, bluntly, ignoring the brief tightening of Erik’s grip as he spoke.

“I am Sebastian Shaw, young Charles, you and Erik are going to be staying with me for a while.”

Charles swallowed. “I want my Mum,” he added.

“Do you now?” Shaw smiled again, somehow making the expression incredibly sinister, but apparently quite confident of the truth of Charles’ words – as unconvincing as Charles himself felt they were. “Well I’m afraid, little boy, that she doesn’t want you.”

For a moment, struck by how true the statement felt, Charles couldn’t help but feel tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked them away quickly, alarmed by how easily they had appeared. His Mother’s inattention had long since stopped bothering him, he was certain, and as much as being small and harmless was to his benefit, crying over his Mother in front of this monster was a step further than Charles was prepared to take.

“Send him home,” said Erik, finally, making no pleas at all for himself. “He’s too little to be any use to you anyway.”

<Erik!> cried Charles in warning. <We’re stronger together.>

<Quiet Charles, this is my problem.>

Shaw laughed. “Oh I don’t think we’ll be sending your little pet home, Erik. How else can we expect to receive your cooperation?”

Quickly, before either of them had chance to react, Shaw grabbed Charles and yanked him from Erik’s arms, dangling him in the air by his strange, eighties T-shirt and waving him about in the air as though he weighed nothing.

“Stop it!” cried Erik. “Put him down!”

Shaw ignored him, instead performing another slow arc with Charles’ tiny body at the end of his arm, obviously powerless to stop him.

<I’m OK Erik,> whispered Charles, trying to calm his friend down even as he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to limit the nausea.

“Stop it!” repeated Erik.

<Sssshh, we can’t be too attached, Erik.> Charles tried to reassure the older boy, even as he found himself choking his own fear down and idly wondering what the price of vomiting on Shaw might be.

“You’d do well to remember that you’re not in a position to give orders, my boy,” chuckled Shaw, nonetheless stopping as requested by half throwing Charles into the corner of the cell.

As Erik shot off to see to Charles, without even a backward glance Shaw turned on his heel and exited, locking the cell once more.

Charles groaned, quashing his initial childish urge to burst into floods of tears at the shock of being hurled across the room and instead doing a silent inventory of any injuries. Sore spots, definitely, knees, backside and his throbbing right hand, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the initial impact, but nothing that was really screaming at him. He was probably going to be fine, provided he got a little downtime. Ruefully, he wondered how likely that might be with Shaw on the loose.

“Charles!” Erik rushed over to him, giving him a visual once over then grabbing him determinedly. “Are you OK? I’m so sorry!”

Sorry? Charles didn’t pursue that for the moment, sighing instead at the surprisingly reassuring presence of Erik wrapped around him. “I’m OK, just a bit bruised,” he told Erik’s shirt, hoping that his hand wasn’t about to turn him into a liar. “It must be true about kids bouncing,” he joked weakly.

“Really?” Erik drew back, this time gently touching Charles’ most visible injuries on his knees before taking hold of the hand that Charles knew he was favouring. “And this?” he asked, “Can you move all your fingers?”

“Yessss,” hissed Charles. “It hurts, but they all move. I think probably my wrist more than my hand,” he added. “That’ll teach me to upset a raving lunatic.”

“You did nothing, Charles,” Erik gripped Charles by the shoulders. “Shaw is my problem, you should have let me go after him on the Blackbird.”

Charles shook his head. “No, my friend, it would have made no difference.”

“It would, I would have been here alone,” retorted Erik.

Charles sighed, unable to put into words for the moment how little he wanted Erik to face Shaw alone, especially in the body of a child. Instead, he simply responded, “You’ve already done this alone once, Erik, let me help this time.”

                                                                                *****

Erik sat back against the wall of the dingy cell, dragging Charles with him, though Charles put up very little resistance. As Erik shuffled back, Charles simply snuggled in beneath Erik’s arm as though he was meant to fit there. It scared him, but Erik couldn’t believe how much Charles’ determination to stick by him meant, how the support, even of such a tiny and pathetic looking creature as Charles was at the moment, even though he knew that Shaw would use it against him, filled him with an inexplicable confidence that he knew could beat Shaw. That they could beat Shaw, together.

He looked down at Charles, wondering if his friend was actually projecting some sort of well-being and reassurance to fool him, then laughing inwardly at himself. Asleep, it seemed far more likely that Charles would be suffering from nightmares than rainbows and happy thoughts, no matter how much he might want to help Erik.

Still, Erik knew having Charles here was also going to cause him problems. How could Erik resist doing Shaw’s bidding when Charles’ health was at stake? Even if Charles was right when he insisted that Shaw couldn’t know he had his powers, that hadn’t stopped him the first time round.

That first time when he’d shot Erik’s Mother. When Erik had been genuinely powerless to prevent it.

Erik wouldn’t be powerless to save Charles, not like that. He’d be ready.


	7. Erik's Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik’s plans aren’t always brilliant, there may be violence – you have been warned.

Erik paced the cell like a tiger waiting for his dinner, all but ignoring Charles except to occasionally glance at his injured wrist, intentionally raising his anger at Shaw and producing a surge of fury each time that had Charles wincing in telepathic sympathy. He held on to every ounce of his fury as though it was a living thing, imagining that it would fill his body with raw, unstoppable power.

Maybe it did, though somewhere deep down Erik knew that rage was no longer the best way. Still, right now, it was really what he had going for him. He didn’t think that serenity was going to be an option when Shaw came back in. Especially if he went within 10ft of Charles.

As if summoned, the door opened and in sauntered Erik’s nemesis, as gratingly genial as ever.

“Why, Erik, if you’d got energy to spare you could have come to do some errands for me,” smirked Shaw, ignoring the way Erik’s fists clenched and the red of the boy’s face as it deepened even further. At this point Shaw’s words were barely relevant, his presence and his voice more than sufficient to fuel Erik’s bubbling rage.

“I don’t do anything for you,” ground out Erik.

“Now, now, what kind of attitude is that, little Erik?”

“Accurate,” grunted Erik, glaring at Shaw to make his point clear, despite it completely negating any ideas Charles had about pretending to be a real child. Erik was far beyond that now.

Shaw threw his head back and laughed, indulgently smiling at the small, defiant boy before him. “You always were the best, Erik,” he chuckled, reaching out to pat Erik’s shoulder.

Erik took hold of Shaw’s hand, quickly noticing the ring wrapped around his middle finger and quietly removing it as ammunition, before charging at him.

Shaw, apparently amused, simply watched, allowing Erik to land two blows on his torso, before calmly backhanding him to the floor and walking over to Charles and lifting him up by the back of his T-shirt, causing Charles to immediately grab the front of his T-shirt in order to avoid choking.

“Now, now, Erik, we can’t have that,” Shaw smiled down at Erik, completely ignoring the gasps coming from Charles. “Where would we be if we all went round hitting people we disagreed with?”

“Free,” gasped Erik, quickly reshaping the ring he’d stolen from Shaw back at him in the form of a tiny missile and aiming it directly at his neck.

It was, momentarily, gratifying to see that it did have some effect. Shaw did cease his annoying smirking for long enough to dodge the projectile. Unfortunately, the man then used Charles’ helpless body as a shield, impaling him with Erik’s missile in his side before dropping him to the ground and kicking him hard enough to land him on top of Erik himself.

“Tut, tut, Erik. Surely you remember how I feel about that kind of attitude,” complained Shaw, turning on his heel and marching out of the cell again.

Left alone, Erik swallowed back a sudden urge to burst into tears, lifting an unconscious Charles from on top of him and settling him as carefully as he could manage onto the floor.

He’d made such a huge mistake. How could he have allowed his anger to get the better of him like that? Charles had been right, even at his best he’d got no real chance alone against Shaw, but pathetically shrunk and with barely any ammunition, what had he been thinking? Not to mention his missile would probably never have even hurt Shaw.

“I am so stupid, Charles,” whispered Erik as he knelt at his friend’s side, stretching his power out to feel the tiny missile once again, ready to remove it. “I’m sorry about this,” he added, hoping that Charles was sufficiently far under, at least for the moment, not to notice any additional pain.

Quickly, Erik removed the ex-ring from Charles’ side, flinging it across the room in frustration and hastily stripping off his T-shirt to try to staunch the flow of blood from the resulting wound.

Charles groaned. “Erik?”

“Right here,” whispered Erik, brushing Charles’ hair away from his face. “Lie still for a minute, I want to be sure about where you’re hurt.” Erik swallowed tears back again, finding the idea of injury to tiny Charles even harder to deal with than he would have the full sized version. And that would have been quite bad enough.  “Show me, Charles,” Erik tapped the side of his head and at Charles’ nod, carefully began feeling round Charles’ small body.

Only just awake and not exactly at his best, Charles seemed to be sharing his pain much more openly than Erik suspected he might normally, finding himself wincing as a passed a cluster of battered ribs and ready to howl all over again over his injured side and tail bone.  “Ouch,” grimaced Erik, trying to smile in reassurance, but just as certain that Charles would feel all of his guilt and regret.

<It’s not your fault, Erik,> said Charles, apparently not keen to try speaking just yet.

“How do you figure that, Charles. At any level?”

<Because I blame Shaw, my friend.>

Of course you do. Nonetheless, Erik did find it somewhat comforting. Enough to calm the immediate need to fall apart at least. If he ever got to the point where Charles did blame him, then he would be in real trouble.

“Come on, Charles. Do you think you can stand? We should get you to the bed.” Erik carefully placed his hands under Charles’s armpits and helped him get to his feet, supporting as much of his – admittedly minimal – weight as possible without running the risk of falling. “You hold the T-shirt over the wound, I’ll hold you up,” instructed Erik.

<I will,> agreed Charles, easily.

Probably too easily, for Charles. Erik ignored the newest flare of worry and concentrated on shuffling across the – thankfully – tiny room to the only bed and helping Charles to lie down on it. “Try to rest,” he told him gently.

<You too,> said Charles, carefully reaching out with the arm on his relatively uninjured side. <Please?>

Erik raised an eyebrow, certain that full sized Charles would have sent him away in order to nurse his injuries alone, but pleased that Charles wanted him to stay. “Of course,” he responded, sliding carefully into bed and reaching round Charles to – very cautiously – pull him to his side. “Better?”

<Perfect.> Charles gave him a small, careful smile and slowly relaxed into Erik’s embrace, drifting off more quickly than Erik would have expected given the various pains in his side and back and the slight hitch to his breathing.

Erik lay awake far longer, reminding himself just how much more important Charles was than his need to rid the world of Shaw.  


	8. Alone

Erik awoke in the darkness, taking a moment to get his bearings as he registered the soft, warm weight of Charles on his left arm and the dim, dreariness of their surroundings. The only light in the room appeared to be from the moon, casting a faint white glow across the room and highlighting the foot of the bed – devoid of any feet. Erik shifted slightly, trying to get a look at Charles without disturbing him, needing more information on how his friend was doing after yesterday’s events.

He didn’t want to think too hard about yesterday. Erik suspected, in fact, that thinking too hard about what had happened yesterday would make him either guilty or angry enough – he wasn’t sure which – to disturb Charles. So he buried his guilt and anger for the time being, and concentrated on their situation.

They were trapped.

Charles was hurt.

Disappointingly, they were both still tiny.

Shaw wanted them for something.

He couldn’t sense any metal, other than the ring he’d taken from Shaw.

They hadn’t eaten since they’d arrived and his stomach was now rumbling loudly.

Unimpressed by his rather depressing catalogue of problems, Erik shifted slightly to peer at the door, realising that it if food was going to be delivered while they were sleeping that would be the most likely arrival point.

Amazingly, he was right and a small tray of untouched food lay on the floor in front of the door, ready for Erik to just leap up and grab it. Perhaps things were looking up.

He lay back down, not yet prepared to wake Charles up in order to satisfy his stomach. Charles would have some pretty serious healing to do, he’d need his rest. Erik could rest too, ready for the next round.

Although that next round, he reminded himself, would in no way involve directly attacking Shaw whilst Charles was within his reach.

Despite Erik’s best intentions, his anger began to mount, alongside an almost silent groan from his companion.

“Erik?” Charles’ small face raised off Erik’s bare chest, leaving a small patch of drool, and peered sleepily at Erik, his hair standing out in all directions. “Is it morning?”

Erik debated his responses, uncertain, but in the end simply replied, “More or less.”

Charles smiled, with an edge of grimace that made Erik wince, despite being reasonably confident that Charles was no longer projecting his discomfort.

“How do you feel?”

The smaller boy seemed to take a moment to look inwards, before responding, “I think I’ve stopped bleeding,” in a manner that might be interpreted as cheerful on anyone other than Charles.

Erik found himself wincing again, unable to ignore the trickle of guilt and empathy that swept through him. Still, Charles’ breathing did sound more even at least, hopefully those ribs were only bruised. “Food?” he suggested in the end.

Charles sat up in glee, and then curved in on himself with a gasp. “Ouch,” he managed through obviously gritted teeth.

Right. Erik almost lifted Charles into a sitting position on the bed’s pillow, using blankets to shield him from anything that might poke or prod him, before sliding off the bed to investigate the food. “Stay put, Charles, I’ll get it,” he warned, just in case the telepath hadn’t got the message with all the careful shuffling.

“I will,” responded Charles quickly, his breath sounding a little as though he was panting and generating a new wave of sympathy in Erik. Erik remembered injuries like that all too well, many of them delivered by Shaw. Injuries that hurt to breathe through, and injuries that just hurt if you moved at all.

Naturally, sympathy was followed by a wave of anger. Erik gritted his teeth and concentrated very hard on the food tray at the door.

It wasn’t much, but after what must have been nearly 24 hours without food, particularly in a small body, Erik didn’t much care, he grabbed it, quickly returning to Charles on the bed as he took in what they’d been given.

Two cups of water.

Two dry slices of bread.

There wasn’t much point in trying to conserve that, Erik figured, given that they were already starving. He sat cautiously beside Charles and handed him his slice with a shrug.

Charles reached out his uninjured hand and took it without a word, internal or external.

They chewed slowly together.

Once that was done, hardly satisfying, but at least a minor improvement, Erik and Charles seemed to have run out of distractions and Erik found himself trying to squeeze round some of his carefully arranged cushioning in order to get a look at the injury on Charles’ side. He could confirm that it had stopped bleeding, and that there was no metal remaining within it, but beyond that there was little to see. Nonetheless, it was an ugly gash on the side of otherwise beautifully smooth, innocent skin.

It shouldn’t be there.

“Really, it’s a good job there isn’t much metal about, Erik,” smiled Charles, his small face betraying the slightly forced smile.

Erik raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline he was sure was soon to come.

“You’d have crushed the whole room several times over with all that anger,” Charles pointed out.

Erik let out a snort, knowing full well that he would never have injured either himself or Charles with that sort of loss of control. Though, true, if they’d been in a high rise with metal supports he might have been a little more concerned.

They fell back into silence. Erik concentrated very hard on thinking of things that weren’t going to make him angry.

It was a really long day. Finally, although Charles had barely moved all day, he asked Erik if he minded going to sleep and Erik carefully arranged them once more, curled up together in the only bed. It took Erik a long time to fall asleep, even lulled by Charles’ even breathing and the effort of both generating and withholding his rage, but at least with Charles tucked in so close by his side he could feel comforted that he knew that Charles was safe and alive.

For now.

The next day, whatever time it may have dawned at, started in much the same way.

Thankfully, Charles didn’t seem any worse. Tired and sore, but there was no sign of infection or any other lingering problem. He simply needed some time to heal. Time, of course, didn’t seem to be their problem for the moment.

Food, however, could be.

Exactly matching the previous day, the tray delivered two slices of bread and two cups of water. Erik wished fervently that he’d had the opportunity to explain to the deliverer just how inadequate a meal that provided for two growing boys.

Not that they’d grown. Nutrition-wise, Erik wasn’t sure which was worse, though in their current situation he had to admit he was desperately disappointed that they hadn’t changed back yet. Not that either of them was a physical match for Shaw and his powers, not with his helmet, but at least it would feel like a more even fight – not to mention that reaching the helmet to pull it off would be considerably more practical.

Diverting his attention from the train of thought before it turned to anger, Erik returned to Charles with their meagre delivery.

“Breakfast, Charles,” he nudged the other boy, worried momentarily that Charles had zoned out again, but Charles quickly responded.

“Sorry, I thought I felt someone nearby.”

“False alarm?” asked Erik, so gently that he suspected in more usual circumstances Charles would have regarded it as patronising. Of course, maybe he still did, but he ignored it. It was really quite hard to avoid patronising Charles when he was about 3ft tall.

“Possibly, it’s difficult to say whether they simply slipped out of range again, or whether I just imagined it – wishful thinking.”

“What would your range be, Charles?” asked Erik, carefully placing the food on the bed, but ignoring it in favour of their discussion for the moment.

“At age 3?” asked Charles, his cheeks reddening as he glanced down at his small body, projecting his embarrassment at his situation.

Ah. That explained it then. “Your range is reduced?”

“Considerably,” admitted Charles, “though it’s difficult to gain empirical evidence to support my instinct at the moment.”

“Obviously,” shrugged Erik, smiling slightly despite himself.

“Is there no effect on your powers?” asked Charles, suddenly curious.

Erik reached within himself, seeking out the once ring from the corner of the room where he’d hurled it with his powers, trying to decide if it felt further away than normal. “Perhaps,” he conceded, “it feels a bit like I’d need to stand on tiptoes to reach a shelf that I’d normally reach easily. As though it’s in proportion.”

“Yes,” said Charles. “That’s exactly it.”

They paused. Erik, and he suspected Charles, trying to quickly calculate the change in their relative heights. Charles, who currently stood well below Erik’s shoulder – or would do if he got out of bed – had obviously lost more height, perhaps half of his usual height, whilst Erik suspected he would stand closer to two thirds of his adult size. Quite a dent in range, even if it was that simple.

Which it probably wasn’t. Half of Charles’ normal range would still be quite a long way. Losing a third of Erik’s range would probably barely be noticeable in most circumstances.

Erik sighed. Shaw really was an annoyingly intelligent, obnoxious megalomaniac.

                                                                                ******

Charles shifted in bed, trying to ignore the discomfort of his side and ribs as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and tried to see what Erik was doing. Erik was very careful, but Charles missed his comfy pillow when he left the bed.

Of course, Erik was fetching the food.

Two slices of bread and two cups of water.

Charles wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything else after so many days – more than he felt he could count at the moment - but his stomach didn’t seem to agree, because it knew, quite frankly, that that was ridiculous. He wondered how much longer they might have to continue like that, but didn’t say it aloud. He could already feel Erik’s worry, he didn’t want to add to it. Despite both of them being adults in reality, Charles knew that Erik had taken responsibility for both of them, and not just because of Shaw.

But because he was bigger.

It was slightly ridiculous, Charles was sure, but he was too tired to argue just now, so he laid back against the inadequate – not Erik – pillows and smiled as convincingly as he could, projecting feelings of being strong and healthy and not tired at all even though he was certain that Erik wouldn’t fall for it at all.

Erik patently ignored him, raising his eyebrows in a manner that said ‘really, Charles?’ silently and sat down carefully on the bed, handing Charles his bread.

Charles looked at it, and at Erik, half afraid to eat because he was sure it would make his stomach start rumbling all over again when for the moment it had stopped.

“Eat it, Charles,” said Erik, apparently pretty good at reading minds himself.

Again, arguing was just too much work. Charles took a bite and began to chew methodically, watching Erik carefully as he did the same. Erik nodded, approvingly, making Charles grin up at him despite himself.

He wasn’t worried, he could manage this – with Erik. Shaw wouldn’t know what had hit him.

Plus surely they’d be mansized again any day now.


	9. Deja Vu

Erik hasn’t lost count when their routine is finally disturbed by Azazel materialising in the middle of the room. He knows precisely how many days, and how many slices of bread. He’s also too tired and lethargic to really make a fuss about it.

Thankfully, he is at least marginally less worried about Charles. Not unworried, because surviving on a slice of bread can’t be good for a 3 year old and Charles clearly feels about as good as Erik does, but Erik has grown increasingly confident that his injuries will heal without intervention.

Of course, they could do without the sort of intervention that Shaw, and by extension Azazel, offer too, but Erik remembers how Charles got injured so he doesn’t say a word as Azazel grabs hold of both of them and teleports them away.

Even without the nausea of the journey, Erik might have stumbled on arrival. Granted, after so many days of isolation the hum of surrounding metal is a wonderful relief, but at the moment it comes accompanied by a terrifying sense that they’ve travelled back in time. Erik swallows back bile as he recognises a near perfect replica of the room where his Mother was shot, and where he himself was repeatedly tortured by Shaw. Surely this isn’t really that room again, he tells himself, clinging desperately to some sort of confirmation that this is not the room his Mother fell in. Not the place where he failed to move that single coin, all those years ago.

Erik finally looks up at Shaw looking for a clue to the room’s origin, but finding himself grimacing inwardly at how huge the man seems when Erik is still trapped in this child-sized body. It is only then, when he finally looks directly at Shaw, that he realises that he is not only looking at Shaw, but also Charles – once more in the madman’s grasp - although for the moment he’s simply sitting on Shaw’s arm in a parody of how a parent might carry a small child.

<Charles!>

<Shh, Erik, I’ll be OK,> Charles tells him, unconvincingly. <Are you OK? You look pale.>

<This is…,> began Erik. <This is the room where she….>

Shaw interrupts, perhaps sparing Erik from explaining.

“So, my young protégé,” smirks Shaw. “Are we ready for round two?”

Erik doesn’t like the sound of that, turning to catch Charles’ eye in the desperate hope that Charles might have some solution for him, even when Erik is certain he can’t do. Shaw continues to wear that blasted helmet, despite Charles’s best efforts at subterfuge and Azazel has already zapped away while Erik was distracted.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Shaw strolls round Erik, continuing to hold Charles as though he weighs nothing at all. Erik supposes that to Shaw, he probably is pretty much negligible right now, but then he’s afraid that might be the problem.

“I’m going to count to three, Erik,” said Shaw, his annoying smirk growing wider, “and then you’re going to move this coin for me – to symbolise that you will work for me, of course – or I’m going to shoot sweet little Charles, here.”

What!

Erik’s mind screams at him, even as parts of his brain acknowledge that there could only have been one thing Shaw was thinking of by bringing him home. This, of course, was Shaw starting over – clean slate as it were – in the most hideous, twisted and gruesome fashion the world could possibly have come up with.

<He’s bluffing, Erik,> whispers Charles in his mind. <Don’t agree, he’s bluffing.>

Erik shakes his head. Shaw doesn’t need to bluff, Erik is sure that Shaw doesn’t care one way or the other whether Charles lives or dies, only insomuch as it will affect Erik.

<He’s not,> responds Erik. <I can’t take that chance.>

A wave of affection hits him, a wash of concern and love from his friend. <He can’t spend all his bargaining chips right away.>

<Charles, I can’t.>

Shaw interrupts, yelling, “One!” in Charles’ ear and making both of them jump.

<Charles!>

<You could deflect it, then,> suggests Charles, sounding astonishingly calm in the circumstances, <like you were talking about back in Westchester.>

Erik flinches, he can’t help it. At the mention of a deflected bullet, the full force of Snapshot’s tour of their predicted visit to Cuba suddenly replays in his head in full technicolour, right down to a mysterious gritty feeling in his mouth as his body imagines it remembers diving to the sand after a falling Charles. Trying, and failing to catch his best friend.

“Zwei,” yells Shaw, really getting into the swing of it now.

The bullet, in Erik’s mind’s eye, could still be lodged in Charles’ spine, stopping him from ever walking again. Even though at this moment a bullet at that height would be nowhere near his spine, even though the moment is long past. This could so easily be the universe forcing them back to how they should be, would have been, if they’d never tried to meddle in time. Erik can’t let that happen again. More than anything else, he knows that what he needs is for Charles to walk away in one piece.

No matter what.

“Stop!” cries Erik, hurling the tiny coin across the room.


	10. Back in the Blackbird

Suddenly, Shaw was gone, though that was hardly cause for relief as Raven stared at the space that had previously been occupied by Charles and Erik.

Tiny Charles and Erik.

“Moira,” whispered Raven in horror.

Moira spun round, barely containing her gasp as she realised what had happened.

“He tricked us,” she breathed back, barely audible.

“What?” demanded Raven, turning on Moira full force. “You think he was after Charles and Erik specifically?”

Moira shrugged. “It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it? Given their history, it’s possible Erik was the key target, but there was clearly…” she trailed off, “sorry.” Moira reached out and clutched Raven’s arm, reassuringly. “I think there may have been more to this than we realised.”

“Agreed,” chimed in Hank grimly from the pilot’s seat. “Shaw does not appear to be a man who wastes effort.”

Raven ignored him for the moment, instead zeroing in on the one person, the one power that could sort this out quickly – without the need for any worry about what Shaw might be doing to Charles and Erik, and what his plans for them might be. Snapshot.

She crossed the plane quickly, grabbing Colin by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously as though she was trying to shake something loose.

“Wake up! We need you!” she nearly shouted in his ears.

“Raven…” began Moira, before Hank interrupted her.

“Hold on everyone, I’m bringing us in,” he called, glancing back at the group of them in the back of the plane. “If you could strap yourselves in you might save yourselves a few bruises,” he added, meaningfully exchanging a glance at Raven himself.

“Darwin, you strap Colin in. Raven, over here.” Moira’s tone brooked no resistance. She took Raven by the arm, and despite Raven’s greater strength easily manhandled her into a seat.

Raven simply stared at her, glancing once again at the unconscious Colin as her eyes began to fill with tears.

Finally, FINALLY, the plane shuddered to a halt on the rough ground of the beach, and before she could even undo her seatbelt Raven found Hank kneeling before her, a large blue finger gently touching the single escaped tear running down her cheek.

“I have to get him back, Hank,” she whispered.

“I know,” agreed Hank. “I’ll take a look at Colin, see how he’s doing.”

Moira nodded too, quickly ridding herself of her seatbelt and standing to take charge of those of them remaining. “I have another plan, if you’re up for it Darwin. Just in case Snapshot doesn’t pan out,” she added.

Darwin rose, his calm confidence, despite the situation, helping to settle a little of the scream Raven could feel fighting to escape her throat. “I’m always good for anything,” agreed Darwin. “What were you thinking?”

“Well you did mention you could breathe underwater?” asked Moira.

Darwin nodded, glancing back at Raven and Hank again for a moment.

“How do you feel about a little submarine salvage excursion?”

                                                                                ***********

Raven sat despondently in the large main living room of the Westchester mansion trying not to think about how quiet everything sounded. In the room just across from her, Moira had set up a kind of incident centre, with various CIA sources summoned into giving up what they had about Shaw’s whereabouts, Hank and Darwin were busy dissecting what Darwin had been able to salvage from the sub, but it had been too late for Colin to do anything to replay what had happened on the Blackbird.

Charles and Erik were gone, and Raven was sat alone in that house, all too aware of how quiet it felt.

“We have to get them back, Moira,” whispered Raven, despite knowing that the other woman was unable to hear her.

Darwin, followed closely by Alex and Sean, patted her on the back. “We’ll get them, we will.”

“We will,” said Moira. “I’ve had news from one of my more – friendly – colleagues, apparently Emma Frost is feeling very pleased with herself, despite her captivity.”

“She is?” stuttered Raven. “How does that help us?”

“She’s quite pleased that she managed to stop Shaw.”

The four mutants gaped at her silently, exchanging a series of puzzled looks before Alex finally spoke up.

“Emma Frost was Shaw’s telepath, she wanted him to succeed.”

“It seems she changed her mind,” beamed Moira.

“Right, so that’s great, but does it help us find Charles and Erik? Remember they’re currently small and stuck with a madman.”

“Well…” began Moira. “We’re not sure yet, but we have some suspicions, my colleague is working on them as we speak.”

“We need to go there,” said Raven. “Make sure he understands how important this is.”

Moira raised her eyebrows in a manner surprisingly reminiscent of Erik. “Because the appearance of six unauthorised mutants in a CIA facility won’t prove at all distracting?”

“You need to go there then,” added Raven, without missing a beat. “We can’t leave this to someone who doesn’t…”

“I know,” said Moira. “It’s Charles. I’ll go pack my bags, I’ll keep you updated.”

For a second Raven simply stood and watched, waiting for Moira to leave them, alone and helpless to do anything other than wait for news, but before Moira could depart she grabbed her arm, shifting until her appearance matched Moira’s own perfectly.

“I’m coming too.”


	11. Consequences

“Ahh, my Erik, finally back to me,” beamed Shaw, patting Charles’ cheek as he did so. “I knew I could count on you, Charles.”

Charles turned away from Shaw, trying to hide his horror. It was as though none of that intervening time had happened, and suddenly Erik was back to the day Shaw had killed his Mother, so close to how Charles had seen it in his mind. All that work to avenge her, undone because Erik didn’t believe Shaw was bluffing.

Because…. Well because he couldn’t let Charles die.

Tears ran down Charles’ cheeks silently, some of them for Erik, but others just grasping onto what Erik had done for him – for the man who sometimes saw life so cheaply to value Charles so much. Charles felt his chest ache with a kind of disheartened gratitude. If only such actions didn’t have to come at such a high price to Erik.

Shaw didn’t notice, or at least didn’t care, his attention was on Erik. Strolling over to Erik with Charles still resting silently on his arm as though he hadn’t even noticed, Shaw put his other arm round Erik’s narrow shoulders, patting him lightly. “It is so good to have you here again, my friend. There are so many wonderful things we can do together.”

Finally putting Charles down, Shaw wandered over to his elaborate desk, opening a draw with a mechanical precision portraying how well thought out his movements were. Nothing came as a surprise. Even as Charles found himself watching with a fluttery dread in his stomach, he took the moment to turn away from the show and touch Erik’s hand.

<You OK?> he asked, silently.

<I will be,> came back the reply, sounding as though Erik’s mental teeth were gritted the same way his real ones might, his anger at Shaw palpable. <So will you,> he added, with a fierce determination.

“Boys.”

And suddenly, Shaw was back right next to them, his calculated stroll taking him far too close so that both of them needed to crane their necks to look at him.

“I have something for you.” He held out a ring of some sort of alloy, large enough to circle Shaw’s palm but not to reach beyond Shaw’s fingers. “Ask me what it is, Erik.”

Erik glared.

Shaw slapped Charles, thankfully without his powers, but hard enough to send him flying into Erik and putting both of them off balance.

“Ask me,” repeated Shaw, incredibly calmly.

“What is it?”

“Why this?” asked Shaw, going back into a kind of pantomime, storytelling mode. “This is an inhibitor collar, specifically made for a certain small telepath.”

Charles swallowed, his fingers clutching nervously at Erik’s, even without being able to read Shaw’s mind, it was far too easy to see where this was going.

“I need you to put this on him, so that he can’t take it off, obviously – that’s why it doesn’t have a clasp. And, of course, so that I can be confident of your good intentions.”

Shaw placed the inhibitor collar in Erik’s hand, even knowing that Erik could have grabbed hold of it from anywhere. Then he lent back against his desk and waited.

Charles looked up at Erik, most of him pleading not to be cut off from the world, from Erik, but knowing that Erik had already saved his life, and that there might be no other way to both get out of this in one piece. <You might have to, Erik,> whispered Charles, unable to admit it louder even within their minds, and knowing that the message carried with it a flavour of Charles’ fear of silence. It had been a long time since Charles’s world had been silent.

Erik squeezed his hand apologetically, but kept the majority of his overt attention on Shaw, watching him watch the collar float from his hand to Charles’ neck, reshaping to make space for him and then closing the gap again.

<OK?> asked Erik, tentatively.

<Yes!> replied Charles, surprised. <How did you?>

<I’ve seen these things before,> replied Erik, still keeping his eyes fixed on Shaw. <Act scared or something, Charles!>

Charles, realising that his reactions needed to be good to please Shaw, let out a loud gasp and clutched at his neck, forcing his attention to remain on Erik rather than on Shaw. If they could get away with this, Shaw might finally take that blasted helmet off and suddenly escape would look a whole lot more plausible – tiny or otherwise.

“Hmm, very nicely done, my boy,” smirked Shaw, “just one moment while we check that it’s working properly.”

Charles’ heart sank.

Erik managed to maintain his outward calm, but inside Charles could hear whispers of random German swear words, building up to a panic. What would Shaw do in order to check?

<I don’t know,> said Charles, as calmly as he could manage. <I’ve not come across a telepathy checker.>

“Ah, here we are,” smiled Shaw theatrically, reaching onto the desk for a harmless looking grey box with a button. “Emma’s own design, though she’d be quite happy to see it tested on someone other than herself, I suspect.”

<I’m ready,> swallowed Charles, unsure how telling Erik helped them but determined to do so anyway.

Right before the world filled with noise.

Terrible noise like a million car crashes all screeching together and crunching in his head and thrown together with every alarm ever invented, all battering at the inside of his head and trying to burst out of his ears.

After a week of silence, with nothing but Erik to listen to, Charles couldn’t hold it in. Despite his best efforts, his hands went to his ears almost automatically as his mouth seemed to open to scream of its own accord.

“Interesting,” said Shaw, still holding the button down apparently enjoying Erik’s horror more than anything. “Azazel!”

As Charles sank to his knees, apparently unaware of anything around him, the tall teleporter appeared beside him, his instant grip on Charles’ arm speaking volumes of Shaw’s anticipation of this moment.

And then Erik and Shaw were gone.


	12. Protégé

As Erik watched, helpless in the moment, Charles and Azazel vanished, leaving him alone with Shaw.

Erik knew that he should have been afraid. He knew that he had barely any advantage over the last time this had happened, all those years ago. And he knew that Shaw had no intention of going easy on him.

But all he could think about was Charles. Where had the teleporter taken him? Was he busy dropping him from a great height like he had done at the CIA base, it wasn’t as if Erik could exactly trust Shaw.

Was Erik going to be responsible for the death of his closest friend?

But then how could he have simply acquiesced to collaring Charles, knowing how the telepath felt when he couldn’t hear any thoughts?

It was, of course, an impossible situation. Something Shaw seemed to specialise in.

Erik turned to face his tormentor, only then realising that Shaw had been watching him – most likely waiting for Erik to realise exactly how much power Shaw had, and how much danger Charles was in.

“Alone at last,” smirked Shaw.

Erik squared his shoulders, willing any traces of fear from his face and body even as he knew it would entertain Shaw. He wasn’t doing it to make Shaw feel better.

“Do I have your full, undivided attention now, my young protégé?” asked Shaw, patting Erik on the head as he prowled the room, forcing Erik to turn to see him.

“I’m listening,” growled Erik, “but only if you bring back Charles.”

“You want him under my control too, how sweet,” purred Shaw. “I would have thought you’d be keen to get him away.”

“I need to know he’s unharmed,” pointed out Erik, knowing full well that any pretence at not caring was long since ruined. And, of course, it was true, he did need to know.

Erik wondered if that actually made this situation worse. Worse than the first time around. Last time he’d seen his Mother die, which had been indescribably horrible, but after that he’d had little to lose. He’d not known the extent of Shaw’s horrors, and he’d not been trying to look after his best friend in the body of a three year old. Nor had he been worried about the worst of Shaw’s tactics, because despite what Shaw had done to his Mother, he hadn’t even known about that yet.

And, ridiculously, he’d been bigger – although the first time there hadn’t been any hope that he’d suddenly become an adult. There was something to hang on to.

“You’ll see him in due time. First I expect to see some proof of your cooperation, young Erik.”

                                                                                **************

Erik gazed out at the devastation behind them, another police station completely decimated, the locks on the jail cells all melted away, the guns all rendered useless and the cop cars half melted onto the street outside. Not that Erik was a particular fan of the police as such, but he did prefer his work to be targeted. This was just a bloody mess with mutants written all over it.

In the background he could hear the shouts of the remaining cops as they tried, and by the sounds of it failed, to retain some sense of order. It was hard to maintain order when your whole world had been turned upside down though, Erik knew, all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

Quickly the yells of the police were joined by a cacophony of more distant screams and odd metal tearing sounds as the chaos spread into the traffic, the feeling of the metal ripping making his extra sense twitch.

“Now, now, Erik, don’t go judging me, you’d be in trouble for this as much as anyone.”

As if it was the trouble that was bothering him. For that matter, as if he’d get into trouble at 7 – more likely he’d get therapy. Erik glared, “What are we doing this for, Sebastian?”

“Ahhh, little Erik, always so inquisitive.” Shaw gave a convincing – possibly genuine – impression of a proud Dad before continuing, “Why would the humans do what we wanted if we posed no threat?”

Right then. Erik raised an eyebrow, mocking Shaw despite himself.

“Now, now, don’t take that attitude,” complained Shaw, still giving off the vibes of a doting Dad teaching his son. “If the humans have no one to protect them from the most fearsome mutants, who will they turn to?”

“Protect them? You mean Charles?” asked Erik, intrigued despite himself.

“Charles?” Shaw looked at Erik for the moment, the arrogance melting away as it gave way to a puzzled expression. “Why on earth would they turn to that little monster! My boy, what person in this fine country of ours would turn to an out of control toddler to protect them?”

“Monster?” protested Erik, beginning to sense the earliest stages of that sinking feeling he often felt when Shaw had outmanoeuvred him again. “He’s practically a baby! And he’s Charles!”

“Erik,” sighed Shaw, “what kind of argument is that? Even you must know that only the most powerful manifest so early, posing a danger to themselves and their families. I don’t see Charles’ parents rushing forward to claim him, do you?”

“They weren’t killed by…” spluttered Erik.

 “Yes, yes, quite.” Shaw patted him on the shoulder, distractedly. “Well, come along Erik, you’re doing a fantastic job, shall we move along to the next police station. Azazel!”

“You said…”

“I know what I said, but you can’t interrupt the process when we’re just flowing like this, my boy! We need to be getting ourselves out there. Making sure that the humans know their needs.”

A gust of sulphur and a firm grip on his arm and suddenly the noise was gone. Not Shaw, of course, Erik wasn’t lucky enough for him to go away and stop talking, but the human noise of chaos surrounding them, and the accompanying sympathetic shrieks of metal, were wholly absent again.

Nothing had happened here yet.

Erik wasn’t too sure where he was. Another police station, of course, most likely a police station somewhere around Virginia, or Pennsylvania - possibly New York - but he’d flown air Azazel so it was hard to be sure. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t freezing he could be at the south pole for all he knew. It didn’t matter anyway, he knew what he was here to do. In a few moments Shaw would start wittering about making sure the humans knew who their protectors were all over again and Erik would have to decide whether preventing Shaw from using him to destroy another police station was worth Charles’ life.

It wasn’t. Particularly as if Shaw did it himself he’d take out a whole lot more lives.

In fact they’d probably back to worrying about nuclear fallout.

Then again, surmised Erik, that would make presenting yourself as the protector tricky.

Was Erik himself being set up too? To be the cause? The same way Shaw was talking about Charles being dangerous?

Erik genuinely wasn’t sure, Shaw was a grand master at this sort of thing, even as an excellent strategist himself, Erik always had trouble second guessing what the man was up to.

For the minute, decided Erik, twisting a hand and melting the rims of an entire line of police cars outside, none of these things were worth risking Charles’ life for. And if someone wanted him to, they were going to have to make sure that wasn’t the bargain he was making anymore.


	13. Nursery

The combination of the intense psionic noise and his sudden shift in location left Charles reeling, momentarily glad that he didn’t have far to fall as he abruptly fell to the floor and braced himself against his stomach’s nausea.

Erik!

But Erik wasn’t there. Charles didn’t even have to turn to register that Azazel had brought him alone.

The tall, red man turned and regarded Charles for a moment, as if thinking, and in sudden realisation, Charles found himself quickly reaching his stubby fingers to his head, aiming to get a lock on the teleporter before he could shift away again.

A puff of sulphurous smoke and Charles knew that he’d been unsuccessful. Azazel was gone, and Charles was – apparently – alone.

Charles moved to stand up again, intending to explore, but having second thoughts as he instead reached once again for his temple. Was there anyone else here? Before shouting out or making himself known, it would certainly be prudent to know if he faced any immediate threats. Somehow, his near collaring by Erik, combined with his current diminutive size had left Charles feeling particularly vulnerable. Worse, as much as he trusted his friend, Charles was certain that he couldn’t trust even a single idea belonging to Shaw, and Erik had already proven what he was willing to do to save Charles’ life.

Not that, admittedly, Charles could see a better choice in this moment.

His sweep showed the house to be clear, and apparently in an area that was abandoned for miles, so Charles regretfully got back to his feet and headed for the nearest door. Obviously he wasn’t going to be manipulating anyone into letting him out, he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way.

The front door, unsurprisingly, was locked. More than that, the lock itself was well beyond his reach and required a key that he didn’t possess. Charles moved on, systematically going to the next door and discovering that it led to some stairs. He followed them up, puffing slightly as he struggled over them in his 3 year old form, and reminding himself that he was going to have to take these very cautiously on the way back down. The stairs were almost completely enclosed and turned a corner part way up to bring him to a window just above the front door when he reached the top.

Even from Charles’ perspective, the window gave an excellent view of his surroundings. Beyond the front yard, a road stretched out in both directions with no visible signs of other houses or even civilisation – a telephone box, perhaps. In front of the house a shallow hill rose up and there were signs that perhaps occasionally it was occupied by sheep or cows, or had been, but for the moment it stood empty and Charles could see no reason for a farmer to actively visit it. Beyond a field there simply lay more fields and countryside, with a large wood off to the right, hiding anything else that Charles might see.

It wasn’t an encouraging sight.

Charles moved on. The upper floor seemed to all be based along a single corridor, with all the bedrooms at the back and only a bathroom to the front of the house. Testing the sink and toilet, Charles determined that everything was in working order before taking an inventory of the bedrooms. There were 4. The first, right next to the bathroom, was tiny and empty. A few scraps of rubbish suggested that at some point it had perhaps been used as an office, but whether that was during Shaw’s reign was impossible to tell – there was certainly nothing of any use amongst the rubbish, more sweet wrappers and old napkins thrown in with some empty files. Even the rear facing window was useless, with boards placed over it on the outside.

 Charles moved on.

The second bedroom held a bed. A relief, of sorts, Charles supposed, at least he wasn’t going to have to sleep on the floor. Although he wasn’t certain that he liked the implication that he might be staying a while. He was much more tempted by the opportunity to run – now that outside might actually be accessible. Not that he’d seen a window he could possibly reach so far.

The bed had a single blanket and a sheet, which could prove handy if he could find a window to get out of, and of course if he could get his tiny fingers to do what he wanted. Charles was all too aware that 3 year olds don’t actually bounce if you drop them from a great height, and somehow from his vantage point the upper floor seemed so much higher than it might do normally.

He continued on. The last two, larger, bedrooms were completely bare, just dust and vacant floorboards staring back at him. The windows were all useless. Not a single window that was low enough to reach or large enough to climb through. Looking at the only forward facing window, which he found in the last bedroom, he suspected that Shaw had actually replaced that one window recently, specifically to make it as inescapable as the rest.

Charles trudged back to the stairwell, taking care to slide down the stairs on his bottom, rather than risk taking a tumble when there was no one there to help him. Even the bannister was too high to be of any assistance.  He sighed, missing Erik more than anything. After however many days under Shaw’s thumb, somehow dealing with this alone made this seem so much harder. In fact, it was so much harder, without Erik his lack of height was so much more significant. Charles thought of all those play pens and nurseries, designed to keep children his size in with ease. Houses too, aren’t intended to allow little children to leave unaccompanied.

But more than worrying about his size, Charles knew he simply missed Erik. And worried about him. What might Shaw do, now that he truly had the opportunity to repeat his and Erik’s terrible past?

Charles moved into the front room, an L shaped room that seemed to serve more as a thoroughfare than anything, providing access to the lounge and the kitchen. No furniture he could climb on, or handy windows to escape from.

The kitchen was at least still functional, with an array of fitted cupboards lining the walls, a sink at one end, and a large refrigerator. Charles began opening doors.

Sure enough, the cupboards were stocked with quite a large amount of food. Not much in the way of cutlery of course, or anything that he might use to tackle windows or locks in doors, but there was at least more than simply a slice of bread or two, and the sight of it instantly made Charles grab for a handful of wrappers, munching a selection of fruit, sandwiches and cookies before he could even consider that it might be some kind of trap. He didn’t care.

The food really helped. It didn’t make him any bigger, and it didn’t make any of the potential exits open, or even make Erik appear, but suddenly Charles felt as though his brain was flying. After days of struggling to think straight or to get past anything but his pain and fear of what Shaw might do to Erik, Charles had the energy to move with purpose.

He marched into the lounge at the back of the house, honestly expecting to find nothing but another annoyingly empty room with a series of impenetrable windows and doors, but instead found an impenetrable fortress with a TV and a sofa.

Charles began by confirming absolutely that he was unable to move the sofa. It was a disappointment, but hardly a surprise at this point, so he rewarded himself for at least trying by climbing onto the old, but comfortable, sofa and taking a break to consider his options.

The house didn’t look as though it was likely to let him out any time soon. Of course, if he grew back into his normal self overnight, that would be a different story, but for the minute that probably wasn’t happening. At least, not unless a person happened to pass by and he managed to control them long enough to let him out.

Of course, given the state of the house’s surroundings, that wasn’t looking likely.

He did, however, have plenty to eat, so really he didn’t have much to worry about. Even if he couldn’t get out, he could wait around until he grew. He was pretty certain it had already been longer than last time….

… A fact that Shaw seemed to know, and expect.

Charles shrugged, strange but he had more pressing worries.

What was Shaw trying to do with Erik? Why was he suddenly intent on capturing Erik rather than sticking with his elaborately planned world domination (or annihilation) scheme? What changed?

Charles frowned, his hand reaching for the incomplete inhibitor collar – redundant, but stuck around his neck nonetheless. More than anything else, he would really like some sort of solution to this riddle. If nothing else, when he finally did grow, he’d be able to escape with a plan of action - potentially to rescue Erik. But understanding the enemy… just like any chess game, Charles needed some idea of what Shaw had been thinking, and from the way he’d previously outmanoeuvred both Charles and Erik, it seemed that simply assuming he was a madman with a random change of plan wasn’t an appropriate course of action.

So, what? Charles asked himself. “Where are you, Erik?”

It was imagination, Charles knew he couldn’t actually feel Erik, but as he reached out for his friend, his gaze was drawn to the TV as though his friend was telling him something. Naturally, if Shaw was up to something big enough with Erik, there would be reports on it.

And if it wasn’t so big, maybe he could worry a little less, Charles told himself, rather unconvincingly.

Charles turned the television on, its black and white screen warming up and then spluttering into life revealing Lorne Greene as Ben Cartwright riding about on his horse and sorting out his neighbourhood and sons. He settled in to wait, confident that sooner or later a news program would come on.

Soothed by the voices from the television, Charles began to doze.

He awoke some indeterminate time later, the light outside still bright, to sounds of screaming and violence from the TV, startling him as he sat up and tried to get his bearings. There, on the television was exactly what Charles had been looking for.

As the intrepid reporter turned to interview an angry police officer, Charles took in the background. There, indisputably, were signs that Erik – and presumably Shaw – had been present, the camera panning to take in all the molten and twisted metal even as the police officer continued yelling abuse about mutants and the need to control them.

Charles swallowed. So, suddenly, mutants were public knowledge.

He wondered what Shaw had been hoping to gain from outing them in such an open way.

Sickened at the sight of the damage Shaw had already done to what Charles had been hoping would be a peaceful introduction, Charles went to turn the TV off, pausing only when the reporter turned to introduce a second interviewee, alongside the police officer. And there, arrogant as ever, stood Shaw.

Charles gaped, for a moment not even registering that Shaw was talking, only grasping the horror of what he’d seen – that not only had mutants made one of the worst possible entries into the consciousness of the everyday human, but that on top of that they’d want to talk to Shaw about it.

With difficulty, he focused on what his nemesis was saying. Their nemesis – Erik’s nemesis. Erik hadn’t joined Shaw, after all.

“Obviously, people seeing what the mutants among them can do is scary. I get that,” nodded Shaw, apparently responding to something the reporter had said, “but what they have to remember is that there are those of us who are willing to protect them. Right now, across the state, members of my Brotherhood of Mutants are watching over their human brothers. Making sure that they’re protected from the renegades and those who are out of control.”

“Such as these children you were talking about, the ones you think did this?” the reporter prompted him again, gesturing to the terrible scene behind her.

“Of course,” smirked Shaw, the expression making Charles grit his teeth to avoid futile shouting at the television. “Some of the most powerful mutants manifest so early that they are unable to determine right from wrong, and their human parents are often unable to stand against them. Imagine a 2 or 3 year old toddler who could demand anything they ever wanted.”

“These children exist?”

“They do, take young Charles Xavier,” as Charles hand reached his mouth in dismay, Shaw held out a poor quality photograph of Charles as he stood today, a mere 3ft high with wide blue eyes and unruly, wavy brown hair.”

“He’s so cute!” the reporter, justifiably Charles felt, seemed a sceptical. Even if being called cute was a little embarrassing.

“Took his parents out aged two,” returned Shaw gravely. “Powerful telepath. But,” Shaw ceased talking to the disturbed reporter and instead turned directly to the camera, “we have telepaths too. We can protect you.”

A brief cough, and the regular human reporter was back in shot again, turning attention away from Shaw. “So that’s it, you heard it here first. Mutants are among us, and Mr Sebastian Shaw is offering to protect us from the worst of their temper tantrums when some of the more powerful little blighters need a nap.”

The image of the police station vanished and quickly Charles reached out to flick the television off, unprepared to listen to anymore of Shaw’s lies. Could he really take Charles’ role and label Charles public enemy number one? Surely no one would buy it. The CIA knew better.

Didn’t they?

He looked down at his tiny hands. Would people really believe that he was the enemy, over Shaw?


	14. In the Quiet

Charles was sleeping when Azazel reappeared, stretched out on the sofa dreaming to the tune of the static on the television.

Of course, in the circumstances, Charles would be the first to admit that his dreams weren’t the most relaxing. When the teleporter disturbed him, for a moment Charles was completely convinced that he was chasing Erik through a never ending stream of tunnels, yelling for help and just getting laughed at. And all the while the mass of humans behind him seemed more and more angry.

Shaw was definitely not the best for Charles’ peace of mind.

Nonetheless, it was difficult to shift from sleeping to teleporting, another truly nauseating experience, and Charles felt it was entirely reasonable that – yet again – he hadn’t been fast enough to lock onto Azazel’s mind.

As Azazel disappeared, another familiar mind approached, bringing with it a huge sense of relief – not just that Erik was alive and with him again, but that there was another real person to feel in his head. Charles beamed, holding his hands out to his friend, even as he realised that Shaw, in his helmet, stood alongside him.

“Erik,” he breathed.

Erik frowned, and as suddenly as Charles felt the wash of the thoughts of Erik’s mind comforting him, he felt them ripped away again.

“Erik!” Charles gasped, moving closer and reaching to touch his friend, just to check that he wasn’t as dead as he felt in his head.

Erik didn’t say anything, barely reacting to Charles’ presence.

“Well done, my boy.” Shaw stepped up next to Erik, patting him on the shoulder and consequently bringing himself far too close to Charles for the telepath’s comfort. “Let’s just carry out our little test that you managed to do this properly this time, shall we?”

Shaw reached out to the grey box on the table and, his gaze never wavering from Charles, flicked a switch.

Nothing happened – this time.

Charles sighed in relief, remembering all too well how that machine had felt the first time around. Then his heart began to sink as he realised just how much trouble that left him in. He glanced once again at his friend – still failing to meet his eye.

And he looked up at Shaw. So very big and powerful and, despite the helmet, so much scarier without his powers to protect him.

Charles turned back to his friend, mentally walling Shaw out of the way, as if turning away from the man would make him disappear or be quiet. What was going on with Erik? Had he truly joined Shaw? The moments before the collar had been completed hadn’t felt unusual, but Erik had always been good at distraction that way. Could Shaw really have turned Erik to his side? There were so many of Shaw’s philosophies that Erik half agreed with, would Shaw’s willingness to spare Charles’ life now negate his murder of Erik’s Mother the last time the two of them were together?

Charles didn’t think so, but despite himself, the cold reception and the lingering presence of the nightmare couldn’t help but make him worry. What if Erik had changed his mind? What if Charles really was alone now?

                                                                                ***********

Erik watched Azazel arrive and deposit Charles, obviously still half asleep, on the floor before shifting away. As much as he was relieved to see his friend alive and well, his stomach sank at the knowledge of what he was going to have to do. To save him – because there was no way that Shaw would forgive a second disappointment, and Erik knew full well what would happen if Shaw was disappointed.

Even as Charles reached for him, Erik concentrated on the metal around his friend’s neck, finding the elements that he hadn’t quite put in place the first time, and fixing them. Cutting his friend off from his telepathy.

Erik could see the moment it worked. The change in Charles’ expression cut to Erik’s core, screaming betrayal at him, just as Charles had come back. Erik thought hard at him, <but this was to save you,> even knowing that Charles couldn’t hear him, as though there was a tiny bit of hope that Charles was so powerful the inhibitor couldn’t contain him, surely Charles couldn’t be contained by some metal with a few miscellaneous components and electronics embedded in it.

But then Shaw’s helmet could keep him out, and the inhibitor felt similar. Not to mention Charles’ reaction. Erik knew, in his heart, that it was futile. He’d just rendered tiny Charles helpless, and at the same time as Shaw had made the world hate and fear him.

Erik looked down at his friend’s feet, willing himself again not to react as Shaw gloated at them and did his little dance with the psionic testing device. How could anyone really be afraid of Charles? But Erik knew that people, humans, feared those with greater power, and the idea of a toddler who could overpower you was certainly disturbing.

The test was passed, and Shaw slowly and deliberately removed his helmet, placing it on the floor and gloating at Charles as he lifted him from the ground instead. “Right then, my young friend, I think now we need to make sure everyone knows where you are and what you’re up to.”

“What?” asked Charles, brokenly, half flinching as he did so.

“Did you not tune in to my magnificent television debut last night, Professor? My, my, you must have needed an early nap. You are now public enemy number one.”

“I heard,” grunted Charles. “I’m not terribly convinced that people will believe you, however. It doesn’t seem like the most convincing ploy.”

“Well, well, we’ll see what the people believe, won’t we my boy,” Shaw glanced at Erik again, smirking annoyingly. “I have it all under control, you’ll see.”

                                                                                ***********

Charles sat in his glass cage gazing out at the empty corridor and wishing that he was back in that first cell with Erik – assuming Erik was still himself – or even back at the house. Anywhere but here, staring out at nothing with nothing in his mind, accompanied by just a bed, a bucket and three glass walls, waiting to see what horror Shaw would visit on him next. He chuckled bitterly to himself, realising that in all his daydreams about getting away he hadn’t even thought of just going home. He really needed to aim higher.

But then, there was still Erik.

And somehow, without guarantees that Erik was in Shaw’s pocket for real, Charles wasn’t prepared to abandon him.

So Charles went back to thinking about the big empty house in the middle of nowhere, where his mind was his own, merely too far from interesting company, and he didn’t feel as though people were watching him constantly.

He lay down on the bed, hoping to at least get a little rest to give himself a break from all the paranoia. But somehow, despite his weariness, sleep wouldn’t come. Now the inhibitor collar itched and seemed to rub no matter where he lay, even though before it had scarcely bothered him. Charles rubbed at it, feeling the strange roughness to the metal on its surface, letting his fingers move up and down the odd grooves, annoyed that its presence was bothering him so much. It wasn’t like Shaw had been stupid enough to give him any opportunities with his telepathy anyway, it was only Erik he was missing.

If Erik was even in range.

Charles closed his eyes and imagined that he was talking to his friend, feeling his soothing mind like he had done momentarily earlier on, and slowly he drifted off to sleep.

                                                                                ***************

Erik waited silently. It was hard. Hard to hang around when all he wanted to do was run for it – get Charles out of this place once and for all – and hard to still appear to pay attention to Shaw whenever he needed to. But Erik was good at waiting.

Already Shaw had decided not to take Erik back to the isolated room he’d shared with Charles, possibly trusting that Erik had joined his side, but more likely just assuming that Charles’ presence within Shaw’s headquarters was enough to keep Erik’s worst behaviour at bay. That and a lengthy explanation about the consequences of Erik attempting to see Charles, or any sign at all that Erik was approaching the building without an escort.

But Erik wasn’t planning on approaching Charles, Erik just needed a little peace.

Silently, Erik stretched out his powers, feeling out for the intricately patterned inhibitor collar, its design woven specifically to make it unique and easy to feel out with his powers. It was difficult, at his present reduced size, and power, the collar was barely within range, but that was why Erik had made it so distinctive in the first place. All he needed was a little time to concentrate, and he would be able to free Charles.

Well, Charles’ mind. Which, for Charles, would be good enough.

Confident that Shaw was entirely preoccupied by yet another reporter on the phone, Erik reached out to the collar and tweaked.


	15. Big News

Charles opened his eyes as the background noise became too loud to ignore, slowly allowing the world begin to filter back in even as a little voice at the back of his head reminded him that he was stuck in a hopeless situation and would probably be better off sleeping until he had some sort of revelation – or, ideally, transformed back into himself. He groaned, the blurry images before him gradually taking shape as quite a crowd of, rather loud, people. And flashes.

They were taking photos of him.

He frowned, quickly checking under the bedclothes to ensure that he was in fact dressed before getting to his feet and stretching.

Not that his stretching was all that impressive, but it needed doing.

The strangers on the other side of the window seemed, if anything, even more excited. The time between flashes seemed to halve, and the noise got even louder.

Then Charles spotted Shaw, leaning nonchalantly on one of the glass side walls to his cage, looking very pleased with himself. And Charles realised exactly what it was Shaw had got these people – reporters – here to look at. He was telling his story, proving that he’d captured the terrifying Charles Xavier, deadly toddler at large. Charles could practically taste Shaw’s amusement.

He could taste it.

Shoving both hands deep into his pockets to remind himself to resist touching the inhibitor collar, Charles realised that he could hear them all. Not their voices at all, in fact the cage might well be constructed of a sound proof glass, but their minds. He had his powers back! More importantly, Erik wasn’t lost to Shaw! As much as he needed his powers, it was the feeling that Erik was with him that was hard to hide from the outside – the relief it entailed.

Charles carefully schooled his features into a blank look, reminding himself again that he didn’t want to give himself away. Then, ever so gently, he reached out to peek into the minds of the reporters, feeling out their fears and their doubts. It was tempting to delve into Shaw’s mind and mess with it, perhaps get him to do something else entirely, but for the moment he didn’t want to risk alerting Shaw to his freedom, not while the odds were still so heavily against him. No, he needed to be more subtle. Even the thought of delving into Shaw’s mind, knowing how familiar he was with the feel of a telepath, sent Charles’ heart pounding wildly in his chest.

So Charles listened.

The reporters, impressively, were worried but more open minded than Charles had expected. Many of them, as afraid of the attacks on the police the other night as they were, didn’t like Shaw very much, and more than half were sceptical of the man’s suggestion that Charles was any sort of danger, especially if they had kids of their own. Even those who thought he was dangerous didn’t think that locking a toddler up was appropriate. Charles concentrated on looking as cute and non-threatening as he could manage, feeling a wave of sympathy from several of his observers as he looked up at them, sticking his bottom lip out and concentrating hard on producing tears. After the few days he’d had, tears didn’t seem so distant. Shaw, finally, didn’t seem to be winning at all.

Abruptly, as if he’d heard Charles’ thoughts, Shaw left the room, leaving Charles alone with the media. Charles gave a start, wondering if he’d given himself away, but a quick check confirmed that his shields were fully in place, Shaw had no idea that Charles could use his powers again.

Gently, Charles reached out to one of his most sympathetic supporters, taking control of her limbs and manoeuvring her over towards the cage, using her eyes to look for the exit.

“We can’t leave him like this,” he said, using her voice to address the others. “He’s just a child.”

An arm grabbed her. “A dangerous child,” the owner reminded her, even as Charles got the woman to prise the fingers off.

“It’s still not right.” The woman came right up to the cage, her arm reaching out to a set of buttons not quite visible from where Charles stood, and firmly pressing one down.

The door opened.

Relaxing his hold on the woman to simply keeping her still, Charles reached out to the others, keen to make sure they didn’t intercept him as he made his way out. He needed to be well out of the way before they gave chase.

Charles crumpled to the ground, barely able to form a rational thought.

For a moment he thought perhaps Shaw had managed to rig some sort of threshold detector, a secondary door alarm that would go off and trap him if he tried to exit. Then he realised it was all in his head. Once again, Shaw had set off that blasted psionic tester, he realised, before any further thought other than how much putting his hands over his ears might help, seemed like far more effort than it was worth.

Needless to say, any hold he had on the people surrounding him completely disintegrated.

As the reporters collectively stepped away from him, Charles was dimly aware of a smirking Shaw re-entering the room, holding some sort of remote control device that he’d clearly used to activate that tester of his. With the door open, despite the terrible clamouring in his extra senses, Charles realised that for the first time he could hear the other people in the room. Their horror, and fear.

At him.

He wanted to yell at them, he wanted to make them all take a proper look in Shaw’s head – like he should have done a few moments ago, even if Shaw might have felt him. He wanted to scream.

Don’t trust him!

But he could see they were all too far gone. If he just could have resisted his need to escape for a tiny bit longer….

Shaw, still playing for the audience, delicately lifted Charles from the ground and placed him firmly back on the bed, even going as far as to pull the covers up over Charles’ shaking body, before stepping back outside the cage and once more locking it. That done, he turned to the assembled reporters with his habitual arrogance and delivered a speech.

Charles didn’t think he needed to know what he said, just that the reporters believed him.


	16. Good Behaviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder about the violence....

Erik lay on the bed, back in the room he’d shared with Charles when Shaw had first brought them here, wishing there was some way he could get news of Charles. When he’d altered the collar he’d really been hoping Shaw would buy his good behaviour long enough that he’d get to find out if Charles had escaped. Not knowing anything was worse.

Of course, Shaw would know that. Heaven forbid Shaw would do anything that might make Erik feel better.

There, thought Erik, as a rush of anger surged through him – reminding him of how much he hated Shaw, rather than futile wishes about having Charles with him or Charles escaping. Anger was so much easier to work with, even if it was far more satisfying when he had a little metal to play with. Erik settled for trying to glare holes in the door, as though he had Alex’s power but through his eyes, waiting for the moment when Shaw might walk through it and he’d be able to vent a little.

“Erik!”

It didn’t take long.

The greeting, and accompanying smell of sulphur that presumably belonged to an out of sight Azazel, seemed altogether too cheerful for Charles to have escaped.

“Erik, my boy, you and I have truly excelled ourselves this time,” beamed Shaw, seemingly oblivious to the rage flowing through every fibre of Erik’s being. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Fists clenched tightly, mostly to avoid making a move on Shaw that he knew he’d regret, Erik ground out, “What?”

“Come see,” invited Shaw, grabbing Erik’s hand and pulling him over to Azazel just beyond the doorway, in a tiny enclosed space that seemed to be mainly rock. “You wanted to see your precious Charles, didn’t you?”

Erik’s heart sank further, plummeting to somewhere beyond his toes as he prayed that he wasn’t about to find the broken pieces of his friend. If he did, Erik knew, 7 years old or not, nothing would stop him from having his revenge on Shaw.

Azazel whisked them away.

They materialised in the main complex again, this time in a corridor Erik didn’t immediately recognise. Shaw wasted no time, though Erik’s reluctance to see the broken body of his friend was clearly trying his patience a little, and quickly Erik found himself being half dragged down the corridor towards a crowd of people who all seemed to be talking at once.

“Come along, young Erik, we have places to be,” complained Shaw smoothly, continuing to be as irritatingly pleased with himself as ever.

Erik wished he could close his eyes without simply tripping up and annoying Shaw even more, he really didn’t want to see this.

But he would.

Finally, surrounded by the incongruous crowd of people, Shaw placed Erik purposefully in front of a glass cage, enabling him to see inside without any obstruction from the others.

There, sure enough, lay Charles, curled up tightly in the bed, shaking, with his hands tightly over his ears.

But not dead.

For a moment, Erik allowed himself to relax. Anything that didn’t involve the broken body of Charles had to qualify as an improvement over his fears. Then he recognised Charles’ posture.

The psionic tester. Silently, Erik glanced around, quickly confirming the presence of the familiar small, grey box before reaching his powers out to the inhibitor round Charles’ neck and once more cutting off his telepathy. Erik was quite certain he wasn’t imagining the slow relaxation of Charles’ body as the noises in his head were cut out.

Ignoring Shaw, and the crowd of people, Erik reached out to touch the glass, wishing that he could touch Charles’ mind without hurting him.

“Charles,” he whispered.

Amazingly, though the cell was clearly soundproofed, Charles sat up slowly and stumbled away from the bed, his hands both reaching out to touch the glass on the other side of Erik, as though even the edges of contact could provide some sort of comfort after days apart. Wordlessly, tears began to run down Erik’s cheeks, each of them letting out his fears of seeing Charles dead, and his terror of what might yet happen. A terror it was increasingly hard to bear.

Reluctantly, Erik turned back to look at Shaw, his hands still resting low on the glass where Charles could reach them.

Shaw cleared his throat. “Ah, back with us, Erik.”

Erik glanced at the others, only then, as flashes went off in his face, realising that he was looking at a herd of reporters.

Reporting on him and Charles.

He resisted the urge to wipe away his tears, refusing to give Shaw the satisfaction.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce our newest ‘recruit’,” Shaw held his fingers up in the air, making it clear how he felt about Erik as a recruit. “I’m afraid this young fellow is able to manipulate metal, so I wouldn’t recommend hanging around too long if you’ve got any metal on your person. Naturally, we have no metal in this area, so you should be perfectly safe once you leave.”

Erik frowned, reaching out for the metal that he’d previously been too preoccupied to notice. Certainly, the cells themselves were lacking in metal, but the headquarters was big and hardly metal free. Shaw couldn’t think that his range was so reduced, could he?

Shaw continued. “Obviously, he’s the one responsible for the recent attacks on the police around the state, so I feel confident in announcing that we have been successful in eliminating the immediate threat – until the next out of control mutant emerges, of course.”

“Mr Shaw!”

“Mr Shaw.”

The reporters, apparently, couldn’t get enough. Shaw barely took a moment to open a second cell and hurl Erik into it, cutting him off from their annoying noise at least, before gesturing them to calm down and slowly walking them out of the complex.

Erik could have grabbed a few pieces of metal, bits of cameras, pens, fillings, but somehow with Shaw right there, and aware of it, biding his time seemed like the wiser move. Slowly the whole gaggle of reporters moved out of range, and Erik couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even as the most immediately available metal disappeared. Disappointingly, Shaw didn’t stay gone.

Moments after the reporters exit, Shaw returned, apparently feeling very pleased with himself. He waved to Erik, before sauntering over to the control panel, flipping a switch that apparently removed the soundproofing to both cells, before unexpectedly opening the door to Charles’s.

“No,” gasped Erik, almost under his breath, “don’t hurt him!”

“Don’t hurt him? My Erik, I can’t have you thinking you can just do as you please whenever you want, can I?”

What? “I didn’t…”

“Young Charles was able to manipulate the metal on his own collar? I think not,” insisted Shaw, still – annoyingly – smiling at Erik, even as he entered Charles’ cell.

Charles, sensibly, backed away. No noise that Erik could discern came through the walls, but he could feel Charles’ fear nonetheless, and his helplessness. There was no way he was getting away, and they both knew it.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Erik.

Shaw reached out slowly, grabbing Charles’ left arm, and deliberately put pressure on the middle of his forearm. It didn’t look like anything, it wouldn’t have been if not for Shaw’s powers, but Erik could see Charles sweating with the pain, desperately trying to pull away.

And then he screamed.

Shaw didn’t even look at Charles, his broken arm bent at a terrible angle and loud sobs choking out of his throat. Shaw looked straight at Erik and didn’t say a word.

Erik got the message.


	17. The Lost Reporter

“It’s megalomania, my dear, I had to give him something to work with.”

Raven sighed, wishing that Emma Frost’s words hadn’t stuck in her head quite so precisely. Wishing that the CIA could have turned their backs for a minute or two so that she could have taken out Emma Frost for trapping Charles and Erik with her deranged megalomanic.

She wasn’t sure she cared that Emma had potentially averted nuclear war, the price had been too high.

Moira, as fond as she was of Charles, had had the audacity to suggest that the telepath had done a good job in the circumstances. Raven had almost left her behind at the CIA base.

Thankfully, Hank had found them another lead, one Shaw had practically advertised on TV.

                                                                                *******

Erik watched Charles as he sat, crumpled on the floor of his glass cage, tears still streaming down his face, with his broken arm cradled against his chest. More than anything, Erik needed to get to him.

But he was afraid. Reaching out with his powers, Erik was sure that he would be able to find some metal somewhere, even if Shaw had somehow totally removed the metal in this building, Erik’s reach was significant, and metal was far too commonplace to simply eradicate.

But what would he do if Shaw caught him?

More importantly, what would Shaw do to Charles? Even if all Erik did was break into Charles’ cell instead.

“Do it,” whispered Charles, looking straight at him through the tears, his small voice rough with the pain even as he projected his understanding. “I’ll take the risk.”

Erik swallowed, reaching again for some surrounding metal to work with.

“We’ll take him out together,” added Charles.

“All of us.”

They looked up, initially seeing one of the reporters who had been visiting earlier, until she rippled and her form turned familiar and blue.

“Raven,” gasped Charles, a smile touching his lips for what seemed like the first time in days.

Erik sagged with relief. “Get us out!” he shouted.

“Bossy,” pointed out Raven, calmly, before reaching for the controls and opening both cell doors.

Erik dashed past her, diving into Charles’ cell and very cautiously wrapping his arms around the smaller boy.

“Charles,” he whispered, relief flooding through his voice despite their continued presence in Shaw’s cells.

Charles relaxed against him, a similar wave of relief moving through him, detectable despite the absence of the usual wave of Charles’ emotions in his head.

Erik looked back up at Raven, her white teeth shining against her blue skin as she grinned back at them. “I’m so glad we found you guys,” she added.

“Me too,” smiled Erik.


	18. Unstoppable

“We’ve got to move,” whispered Raven, half reluctant to disturb them, but well aware that if Shaw got past the others his first port of call might well bring him here. “Come on.”

She reached down, gently lifting Charles from Erik’s arms and settling him into her own, before reaching down to take Erik’s hand and haul him off the floor.

“Come on, I’ll hide you.”

Erik frowned, “We – I – can help though.” He glanced up at Charles, up on his sister’s shoulder.

“We,” put in Charles, sniffing slightly.

“No,” said Raven, firmly. “You both got to help on the beach, but now you’re small and hurt - you don’t even have access to your powers, Charles. Now you have to trust us.”

Erik pulled away from Raven, making her think he was rejecting her orders for a moment, until he grabbed a small, grey device and flipped a switch. “I’ll hide with him for now, but I’m going to sort him out.”

Raven smiled. “Good,” she responded, before tugging him away again, keen to be gone before Shaw came looking.

She led them out of the building, into the open air for the first time in days. After so long hidden away and trapped, the light breeze had both Charles and Erik inhaling deeply as Raven urged them further from the building. She continued away for a few more minutes, sticking to the shadows and keeping a careful eye out for any company, before she stopped at a row of cars.

“Here,” said Raven, gesturing to an unremarkable, black saloon amongst the row of cars. “Take this one. It’s well hidden and it’ll provide you with plenty of material to work with if you need it.”

Erik nodded.

“You’re taking on Shaw?” asked Charles quietly as she set him down on the front passenger seat.

“We’re taking him down,” said Raven. “This has just given us more incentive.”

“Good luck,” said Charles, reaching out his good arm to touch her one last time before she disappeared into the twilight.

                                                                                ******

Raven didn’t pause, she couldn’t. Part of her was knotted up in fear at even admitting that she was leaving Charles and Erik alone, vulnerable to someone taking them again – even if she had made sure Erik was in a position to protect them. What if he fell asleep from exhaustion or something? And Charles. Charles was clearly in no position to defend himself from anything and apparently public enemy number one. More than anything, Raven needed to stay with them.

But Raven needed to help the others too.

She picked up her pace, moving her thoughts away from the two boys and onto the fight ahead. They’d discussed this, planned their tactics so thoroughly Erik would have been proud. He could take that opportunity later though, after it was done.

Raven focussed on Shaw, quickly fishing in her pockets to put in the earplugs Hank had provided them all to protect them from Sean – their best line of offence.

The battle had decimated the main hall. It hadn’t been exactly crowded with furniture in the first place, but what there was was now gone, and several huge rifts were gouged in the floor. Parts of the ceiling hung brokenly down, swaying, and not a single piece of glass remained unshattered.

The fight, if it could be called that, still raged.

Shaw stood at its centre. Occasionally, as Sean released another sonic blast, he might wince or wobble a little, but for the most part he was scarcely affected by anything they could throw at him. Darwin, with his huge resistance to attack, could hold him down for a moment, but no one could figure out how to do more than disorient him without simply feeding him more power.

Even Hank couldn’t take him on, and Alex was afraid to shoot anywhere near him.

As Raven walked in, sizing up the situation, Colin walked up to her.

“It’s a wee bit of a stand off, I’m afraid. We can’t seem to work out how to get round those powers of his. Sean’s done his best, but he’s flagging a bit.”

“I can see that,” observed Raven, wondering if she’d been too hasty in dismissing Charles and Erik, despite the condition they’d been in.

“I have a plan, be right back,” added Colin, quickly disappearing out of the door Raven had just entered by.

Right then, thought Raven. How to take out a megalomaniac who you’re not allowed to hit. Burial? Power drain somehow? Leave him to struggle under Hank and Darwin so long he wore out? Raven suspected they’d tire long before he did.

She caught Hank’s eye, seeing the same dilemma reflected in his eyes, even as Shaw finally leapt forward and attacked Sean, quickly knocking the boy, gasping, to the floor.

“He’s going to call in his reinforcements soon,” said Hank, mournfully. “We need a new strategy.”

                                                                *************

For a few moments after Raven departed, Erik did little but stare at Charles, stroking the back of his right hand gently as he reminded himself that they were truly back together and they really could get out of this. No matter, for the moment, about the doubts Erik had over the others taking on Shaw. For the moment, he only wanted to reassure himself about Charles.

“Charles?”

Charles, finally, turned from Raven’s departure and looked at Erik, tear tracks still clearly visible on his face. “I don’t know how to help them,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m….” he gestured at his body, battered and small.

“We’ll fix you,” said Erik, sidling closer to Charles once more and touching the collar around his neck, withdrawing the metal into a liquid and then a ball, for future use, and quickly crushing the remaining components; crystals and simple circuitry. “Then we’ll help, OK?”

Charles lent against Erik, a flood of telepathic emotion ranging from exhaustion to elation, but overwhelmed with simple relief, passing through Erik as they touched. “It’s good to be free,” said Charles weakly.

Erik nodded, intensely aware that they were hardly free yet. Even if they escaped Shaw, what of their new human enemies? But he didn’t respond. Charles was free to let his mind roam, and for the moment that would have to be enough.

“We need to bind your arm,” put in Erik, loosely pointing at the limb where it still rested against Charles’ chest.

“I know,” said Charles, biting his lower lip in an expression of nervousness Erik had seen repeatedly on his adult self.

Erik glanced around, sizing up the contents of the car, before seizing on a few ripped strips of car seat, alongside some metal skimmed from the car’s doors and bodywork. He reached out for Charles’ injured arm, not taking it, but waiting until Charles volunteered.

Charles, resting the broken section against his uninjured hand, slowly lowered the limb into Erik’s hands, his teeth still digging into his lip, but otherwise giving no indication of any pain other than a few short sharp breaths.

“Can I check it’s in line?” asked Erik

Charles nodded, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and turning his head away.

Erik took a deep breath. As gently as he could manage, he ran his fingers along Charles’ tiny limb, even his 7 year old hands quickly traversing the distance, feeling for any lumps and bumps in how the arm lay. Quickly, changing from stroking to moving before Charles could react, he grabbed the two broken ends and realigned them, grateful that they hadn’t been further from each other given Shaw’s predilection for pain, even as Charles let out a strangled wail.

“Shhhh.” Resting Charles’ arm on one of his for a moment, Erik reached out to stroke Charles’ hair. “That’s the worst of it, just let me wrap it up.”

“OK,” sniffed Charles, for the moment looking every bit the three year old, even if Erik knew no three year old would have been so quiet about that.

Taking back his other hand, Erik slowly wrapped the material round Charles arm as cushioning, before summoning the metal and moulding that over the top. “There,” he said, removing his hands from Charles’ injured arm, and reaching out to hug him again.

“Oh thank God,” sighed Charles, relaxing into Erik’s embrace. “I really never want to do that again.”

Erik smiled, wiping the tears from Charles’ face. “You were very brave,” he added.

“I can’t decide if you’re teasing me,” grinned Charles through his tears. “I imagine in the field you might have ignored things like that altogether.”

Erik flashed back, his mind running through an endless series of confrontations in his hunt for Shaw. Times when he did have to patch himself up, and times when it really had hurt – silently. He shrugged, “It’s not just the noise,” he said, finally. “You were prepared to do it again, to stop Shaw.”

Charles nodded, seriously. “We should go,” he agreed, clearly trying to pull himself together. “Before we do though, are you OK?” Charles reached out his right hand, running it down Erik’s face, and then his back and sides, reassuring but also checking for injury.

“I’m fine,” said Erik, catching Charles’ hand and tugging him along to climb out of the car after Erik.

Free of the car, for a moment they stood hand in hand, looking back at the building they had only just escaped from.

“Remember, Charles,” said Erik. “This time we have the upper hand.”

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the psionic tester and dropping it to the ground, crushing it under his foot with a satisfying crunching sound and leaving a twisted mess of box and fragmented crystals on the ground.

“Definitely, my friend,” nodded Charles, his smile growing as he took in the destruction of the device.

Stepping away from the cars, they ran, hand in hand, towards the buildings.

Ahead of them, obscured by the growing darkness, a tall, red figure popped into existence.


	19. Second Guessing

Before Erik or Charles could react, Azazel was on top of them, grabbing each of them by a shoulder and immediately vanishing again.

Snapshot watched, panting as he raced to reach the position of their departure before reaching out his hand and slowly winding back.

Stepping away from the cars, Charles and Erik run, hand in hand, towards the buildings.

Ahead of them, obscured by the growing darkness, a tall, red figure pops into existence.

Colin moves forward, mentally thanking Erik for his physical training, and punches Azazel in the face, dropping the man before he has chance to grab anyone.

                                                                ****************

“Colin!” Charles greeted him, beaming as he recognised the young mutant.

“Charles, Erik,” responded Snapshot, bending down and lifting both of them into his arms enthusiastically. “Are you OK?”

“We’re good,” said Charles, sending a quick look at Erik. “We’re just coming to help with Shaw.”

“Ahh..” nodded Colin, gravelly. “We could do with a bit of help, it’s true. I wonder if maybe we should fix you up first though?” he nodded to Charles’ arm. “Have you fighting fit?”

Charles shrugged, but then inclined his head, agreeing. “It does hurt still,” he conceded, exchanging another meaningful look with Erik. “It’s a long way back though,” he added.

Erik also nodded, firmly, reaching under Charles’ chin and tilting his head to face him, “If we’re taking on Shaw, we need everything we’ve got, Charles.”

Acknowledging Erik with the slightest nod of his head, Charles reached out and patted Colin on the arm. “Good luck,” he whispered, “I know you’ve got it in you.”

Colin nodded once too in confirmation, putting Erik back on the ground before leading the three of them back to their cells, there he finally placed Charles on the floor and motioned to them to take a step back.

Charles backed away immediately, but Erik held his hand up, stalling Colin for a moment. “You need to destroy the psionic tester,” he told him seriously, his eyes searching for Colin’s understanding before he too moved back.

“Like this,” added Charles, sending Colin an image of the destroyed device the boy never wanted to see again.

“I will,” agreed Colin, simply.

Slowly, he raised his hand and, with a look of intense concentration on his face, began to wind back anticlockwise, passing through their escape back to the moment Shaw broke Charles’ arm and beyond, taking Shaw back out of Charles’ cell, then bringing the reporters back and moving to before Charles attempted to break out of his cell.

The scene stutters and pulls back, stopping instead at the moment Erik arrived with Shaw and leaving Colin gasping slightly.

“Too far,” he mutters under his breath, only then realising that Charles and Erik aren’t touching him and have gone back to their places in this time.

In their cells.

Hurriedly, before Shaw can register that he doesn’t simply look like another of the reporters that now surround him, Colin grabs the psionic tester and grinds it under his heel, before attempting to blend back in behind some of the more eager assembled press. Shaw doesn’t appear to notice.

                                                                                ******

For a moment, Erik allows himself to relax. Anything that doesn’t involve the broken body of Charles has to qualify as an improvement over his fears. Then he recognises Charles’ posture.

The psionic tester. Silently, Erik glances around, but as he looks, he realises that the grey box is nowhere to be seen, Charles relaxes before him. Puzzled, but undoubtedly relieved, Erik reaches out to the inhibitor round Charles’ neck, quietly withdrawing the metal to use as ammunition even as his hands reach out to touch the glass, and his mind reaches out for Charles.

“Charles,” he whispers.

Charles sits up slowly and stumbles away from the bed, his hands both reaching out to touch the glass on the other side of Erik, as his mind reaches back and makes contact, comfort and reassurance after days apart. Wordlessly, tears begin to run down Erik’s cheeks, each of them letting out his fears of seeing Charles dead, and his terror of what might yet happen. A terror it is increasingly hard to bear.

“Erik,” responds Charles, nodding almost imperceptibly, projecting his relief that Erik has not joined Shaw.

Reluctantly, Erik turns back to look at Shaw, his hands still resting low on the glass where Charles can reach them.

But Shaw stays silent.

Erik glances at the others, only then realising that he was looking at a herd of reporters.

Reporting on him and Charles.

But not moving.

Then, with a brief whisper of encouragement, Charles sends them away. “There was nothing here,” echoes down the corridor as the footsteps leave them behind.

Standing with the monster.

There isn’t much metal here, but as Raven opens Charles’ cell, Erik grabs what’s available from the inhibitor collar and aims it, slowly, at Shaw’s forehead.

“Never again,” says Erik, his fists clenching once more as he glares right in Shaw’s unmoving face. “Not me, and not him, your turn.”

“You don’t need to,” murmurs Charles, coming up beside him and taking his hand. “I’ve got this.”

“You can’t hold him forever, Charles.”

“I don’t need to.” Charles smiles weakly.

“What have you done?” asks Raven.

“Well,” grins Charles, “it occurred to me that he kept trying to keep our powers out of the picture, I thought I might do the same to him. I’m sure I can find a witness to confirm that he masterminded those attacks, maybe bring a reporter or two back to chat to him, and we can get him locked up.”

“Moira will be pleased,” notes Erik.

“And you?” asks Charles.

“No powers?”

“Well, I may have left him a little, turned it on its head slightly.”

Erik raises his eyebrows. “Meaning?”

“Shall we say, he’s not going to enjoy people punching him very much these days, it’s going to really, really hurt.”

“I could punch him and it would hurt?”

“You could,” agrees Charles. “I thought you might like the opportunity.” He holds up his hand. “Not that I’m condoning violence, but I thought you might need a little something.”

“Oh yes.”

Erik steps forward as Charles releases Shaw, reaching out and delivering his strongest, 7 year old, punch to the evil, smug mutant’s stomach.

Shaw opens his mouth to comment, an arrogant sneer already forming as he suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, goes flying across the room, Erik’s punch hugely magnified.

“That,” Erik announces, “was perfect.”


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it to the end! Thank you to anyone who stuck with reading this in parts - especially with all those cliffhangers! And for the feedback, of course :) More always welcome...

Charles yawned and stretched out, coming round slowly as the light filtered through the curtains. He looked down, as had become something of a habit in the days since returning to Westchester, and took a moment to confirm that his limbs were still small and therefore he was safe to move without falling out of bed.

Or knocking Erik out.

Charles, although he knew that he was an adult really, didn’t like to sleep alone when he was small, and Erik wasn’t complaining. He supposed it was perfectly reasonable really, after all, being small made him more vulnerable and he was still public enemy number one.

Or not?

Charles reached out his mind, leaving his body resting comfortably against Erik, catching a glimpse of Raven thinking loudly about him.

“Charles,” groaned Erik. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just finding out what Raven was so excited about.”

“I meant with your elbow.”

Charles looked down, blushing sheepishly as he removed the offending elbow from Erik’s stomach. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Erik grunted and closed his eyes again for a moment, though Charles knew the other boy was unlikely to go back to sleep. Laziness wasn’t in Erik’s nature, a fact that Charles still found ever so slightly horrifying.

Finally, Erik pulled himself into a half sitting position against the pillow, dragging Charles with him with the arm that was still wrapped round him from sleeping. “OK then, what was Raven excited about?”

“Shaw,” said Charles, resting his chin and his arms on Erik’s chest and looking up at him. “He’s been arrested. Apparently evidence has come to light tracing him back to most of the damaged police stations.”

“That’s a surprise,” drawled Erik dryly, raising an eyebrow at Charles’ smug look.

“I’m not sure anyone in authority really caught on to the whole evil ‘rule the country by controlling their protection’ plan though,” shrugged Charles.

“I don’t think there’s a specific law for that, Charles,” commented Erik, wryly. “They probably just stick to calling it terrorism.”

“Well, true,” conceded Charles, “they might charge him with that, I suppose.” He paused. “And,” he added, “one or two of those reporters I nudged seem quite concerned that he was just setting up those minors he had locked up too, just to excuse maltreatment. They’re looking into going for some sort of child abuse case, on top of all the criminal damage – and terrorism – at the moment.”

“Seems fair,” nodded Erik, his brain flashing glimpses of his first time with Shaw even as Charles tried to look away. “Though they might not find the evidence – not unless we’re planning on stepping forward.” <Don’t step forward, Charles, not even so that you can put him behind bars. They’ll have enough without you.>

Charles blinked, then relaxed his head against Erik’s chest again. “I don’t think I want to be in the public eye again right now, too many people with doubts about small mutants. Plus what if I grow up suddenly?”

“What, indeed?” agreed Erik, his relaxed tone suggesting that as much as he might like to get back to his adult body, his situation didn’t hold the impatience that it had, not with Shaw out of the way. He shifted slightly, raising his head to look at Charles properly again. “You realise that we don’t know what Shaw did to us? We know he set some sort of trap for Snapshot on the beach, and that he expected it to shrink us all immediately, but we don’t know how much power, or how it compared to the first time. What will you do if you don’t grow up?”

“You think we might not?” asked Charles, surprised.

Erik shrugged, “I think it’s a possibility we might have to consider.”

Lowering his voice, Charles whispered, “Would you stay? Open the school with me?”

“You want me to be a tiny teacher?” asked Erik, his lips quirking upwards in amusement.

“I just want you to stay, my friend,” said Charles. <I don’t want to be small on my own.>

“I’ll need to stay so that I’m bigger than someone,” grinned Erik, squeezing Charles before silently adding, <me neither.>

Charles smiled.

There was plenty of time for growing up, after all.

Raven was heading towards their room, and pretty soon they were going to have to get on with their day, but Charles took a moment to relax as he considered his future. Somehow, he didn’t mind so much if he had to take the time to grow up again – he could still create his school, Shaw was safely powerless and behind bars, and Erik was staying. What more could he ask?

Erik raised an eyebrow, a couple of adult only suggestions flickering through his mind where he knew Charles would see them, but the thoughts were fleeting and devoid of any true anxiety about their situation. Erik, like Charles, was enjoying the moment, for however long it might last.

“You realise, we probably won’t feel like this when the next bad guy comes along,” observed Charles, quietly.

Erik nodded, “I know. I think we’re just going to have to make sure we train a lot of mutants – just in case.”

A knock sounded at their door, the handle turning before either of them could answer, as an impatient Raven burst in with her news, but as marvellous as the news was, it wasn’t her accounts of Shaw’s struggles behind bars that made Charles smile later.

It was his friend, still beside him.


End file.
